Knight And Squire
by Jaenelle Angelline
Summary: LoganJubilee AU. Logan is a knight in the 1400's, Jubilee is a girl disguised as his boy squire to get revenge on the man who murdered her parents. FINISHED. Better than it sounds, please read! And reviews are muchly appreciated! Thanks!
1. Default Chapter

Chapter 1: Duke Gilbert's Men

"And here we are, lords and ladies, the beautiful, the exotic, the amazing, Flexible Girl!"

Jubilation Lee parted the curtains at the back of the stage and walked out a few steps, then gathered herself and sprang into a series of cartwheels that took her to the end of the small stage, where she went down into a split. Taking a deep breath, she reached backward, still in her split, and grabbed her back ankle. The audience gasped as her back seemed to flatten against the back of her left knee. She held that position for a moment, then leaned forward slowly, using the opportunity to stretch the kinks out of her back from the previous position. Placing her hands on the stage, she slowly lifted herself into a handstand, with her body arrow straight, toes pointed. She walked forward on her hands a few steps, then lowered her feet until her toes touched the back of her head. She was proud of this one; it had taken a lot of practice to be able to keep her balance on her hands while she did that. Then, carefully, she took her left hand off the floor and waved it in midair, her entire weight balanced on her right hand and arm. The audience gasped, and started clapping.

She didn't let that distract her; if she fell in this position, she could snap her back, break a leg, or worse. Carefully she lowered her left hand back to the stage, thankful that she didn't have a whole lot of body fat to weigh her down, and uncurled from her position, until both her hands and her feet were firmly planted on the floor. Then, with a bare second to gather herself, she pushed off the stage with her hands into a series of backward somersaults, finishing with an aerial back flip in which not a single part of her body touched the stage at all. She finished with a flourish, head high, smiling and waving to the crowd.

The townspeople here were extremely appreciative. They started throwing small copper coins onto the stage, and, flushing, she bent to gather them up. There was no silver this time; but she hadn't been expecting any, either.

This town was poor. It showed in the threadbare, worn clothing; the dull, hopeless look in the people's eyes, and the dilapidated condition of the houses. It hadn't seemed bad when Jubilee's troupe of traveling entertainers had first approached the outskirts of the lands belonging to Duke Gilbert, but the further into his domains the troupe had traveled, the worse it had seemed, and the coins they had garnered for their performances were fewer and fewer. The troupe leader had finally made the decision to turn back; they could get more coin in the neighboring lands. "Why are they so poor?" Jubilee had asked her mother. The last time they had passed through these towns, some two years ago, they had been prosperous, and Jubilee had been able to glean a few gold pieces among the hail of silvers and coppers. Now there were only coppers.

Jubilee's father had answered her question. "The last time were came through here, Jubilee, these lands belonged to the old Duke. He knew how much he could tax the peasants; he knew these people needed to be able to keep some of the produce of their land in order to survive. Starving peasants, sick peasants, couldn't work long or hard enough to produce enough for themselves and the old man, too.

"The Duke's son, Gilbert, doesn't understand that. He takes everything these people have to give, without regard for what they may also need for themselves. He's not like his father was."

"But that doesn't make sense," Jubilee said angrily. "If he's so selfish now, when all the people in these towns move away to other lands he won't have anybody to grow food or raise cattle for him. He might eat well now, but it means starving later down the road. Doesn't he care enough for his people to realize that?"

Jubilee's father had wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "You should have been born a boy," he said, his eyes twinkling. "You've got a head on your shoulders that's wasted on a girl here."

Jubilee smiled at her father's praise. "That's another thing I can't understand," she told her father. "Why aren't girls here taught to read and write and figure, like the boys? Girls are just as smart, maybe even smarter, if you listen to Mother talking, so why is learning just restricted to the boys? Do men here just like dumb women?"

Jubilee's father had laughed at her and ruffled her hair. "Not all men, no," he said. "Any man who wants an uneducated woman is stupid. I wouldn't be able to get along without your mother's wit and wisdom, and we both know that. Thank goodness you'll be just like her. Now run along and see what she's making for supper."

Jubilee reflected again on her father's words as she gathered the coppers on the stage and walked off. "Here, Mother," she said, holding out the basket with the coppers in it.

Her mother took the basket from Jubilee's hand and set it down without looking at it, then hugged her daughter tight. "You did a good job, dear," she said, holding her tight. "I hadn't realized you'd gotten so good at the one arm stand that you would try it here. Oh, my heart almost stopped; I kept thinking you were going to fall over at any moment."

"I wouldn't have," Jubilee said, stepping back and rubbing her arm muscles, which were sore from their exertion. "And how do you think I feel when I see you doing that trick with the running horses? Did you ever think what might happen if one horse breaks stride, Mother?"

"They wouldn't do that, Jubilee," her mother said, taking up the basket and sorting through the coppers. "They're too well trained to do that, especially with me having one foot on either horse's back. Here." She fished two coppers out of the basket and handed them to Jubilee. "Run down to the baker's and pick up a loaf of black bread and a wedge of cheese, please, dear."

Jubilee took the money and slipped it into her pocket, smiling. She was glad she didn't have to wear girls' clothes while she was performing. All those skirts would get in her way, and there were no pockets. Her mother might insist that she wear a dress on a few occasions, but Jubilee loved the freedom of movement she had in boys' trousers and shirts. Now, if she could only just cut her hair…she wore it in performances twisted in braids and wound around her head, and she had an old hat of her father's to go over it, for when they were in a town in which it wasn't safe for a young girl to go out alone. A small, slender seventeen-year-old girl could pass for a thirteen-year-old boy in these parts, especially with the breast band that bound her small breasts flat to her chest and out of her way while she was doing her acrobatics. And even though those who saw her perform could see she was a girl, the binding made her look much younger than her seventeen years. And looking young helped; she got more pennies than she would otherwise.

She jumped down off the back of the wagon she lived in with her parents and headed for town. The caravan master had stopped the entertainers' caravan train just outside town; not far enough in that the townspeople would be tripping over the entertainers, but not far enough out that they could be construed as a target for any bandits and lawless men who might be roaming the countryside.

She bought the loaf at the baker's, and the woman, despite the care lines etched into her face, gave Jubilee a wink and a small cake of sugary dough. "Haven't the coppers to spare on a performance, my girl," the woman said cheerfully, "but I can spare a sweet or two." She grinned as Jubilee gave her a jaunty wave of thanks and headed for the town's dairy. Here she bought a penny's worth of yellow cheese; goat cheese, not cow, since there wasn't a single cow to be seen; but it was cheese nevertheless. She tucked the packages under her arm and headed back toward the caravans, savoring the sweetness of the sugar cake in her mouth.

The caravan was comprised of ten wagons, each with a different family and a different act. The caravan master's wagon, painted a bright red and blue with fake gold letters, was first. Then came the juggling family; the Flemings; they juggled swords, daggers, balls, and even themselves. Jubilee's parents wagon was next. They were Chinese, an exotic land far to the East, and to reflect that foreignness, Jubilee's mother had painted a girl dressed in Chinese clothes on the side of the wagon. Jubilee's mother and father worked with the caravan's horses; her father trained them, and her mother did acrobatics on them. Jubilee didn't have her mother's patience for standing on something that moved under her, so she had taken to acrobatics on the ground, showing off her unusual flexibility in handsprings and somersaults. Next came the fortune-teller's wagon; Madam Sajadi, as she called herself, had a crystal ball painted on the side of her wagon. Then there was the dancing girls' wagon; this family was from the far off land of Africa, and had skins that glistened black. There was a mother and four girls, all adults, and they did dances that could make a man's heart stop. Jubilee wished she could dance like that. She had been trying to get Mama Mvemba to teach her how to dance like that, all sensuous curves and wiggles; Jubilee was so small and skinny that she'd never had a beau, even at seventeen. Maybe if she could dance like that she could get a man's attention.

Then came the wagon of the little old lady who trained dogs and cats. Her pets could do wonderful things; dogs could dance with each other, the cats jumped over and played under the dogs, and they even had mock battles, which always delighted the audiences. She had little outfits made for each of the animals, and they looked like little soldiers marching off to war with each other. Jubilee loved playing with them. The sword-swallower was next; he was an older, single man who didn't socialize much with the other members of the caravan, although he would have dinner with Jubilee's family when her mother asked him to. And in the last wagon was the aerialists. They had a complicated setup of poles and ropes they had to set up, and the parents would hold the posts steady while their identical twin sons whirled in complex patterns around the high bars. Jubilee loved that act…and it didn't hurt that David, the older of the two twins, was handsome and seemed to like her too. They were nineteen.

Her attention was suddenly attracted back toward town at the sound of shouts. She turned, and saw a group of horsemen come thundering into the town. They wore armour, and the colours of Duke Gilbert.

The man in the lead reined in the big bay horse, and pointed toward the caravans. Five of the other horsemen thundered on past him, and Jubilee started to run toward the wagons as they bore down on her.

One of the horsemen raised his sword. "Get back into town, boy!" he hissed, bringing the hilt of his sword down against her shoulder with a bone-jarring thump. Jubilee was knocked over, and she sprawled there in the dust dazed for a moment before a hand helped her up. It was her father. "Keep your head down, and your hat on," he said to her, his voice low. "Don't give them any reason to think you're a girl. Go on back to the town square, find the baker woman. Stay close to her; she'll hide you until I come back."

"Papa..." Jubilee grabbed his sleeve. "Where are you going, I'm scared…"

"I'm going to get your mother. I don't like those flaming torches Duke Gilbert's knights are carrying." And Jubilee's father was gone, slipping behind the houses as quietly as he could, heading for the caravan. Jubilee paused, irresolute; should she go back to the town, or to the caravans for her father and mother? She stopped, tucked the loaf of bread and the cheese into a nearby sheltered doorway, then headed for the caravans.

The soldiers, in the meantime, had reached the caravans. "Out, all of you, out!" They were pounding on the sides of the wagons, and one of them even took his sword and ripped through the canvas covering on the Mvembas' wagon. The caravan folk hurriedly climbed out of the wagons, and were herded by the armed horsemen into a tight knot. With some harsh threats and not a few blows, they were pushed toward the town square. Jubilee saw her parents close to the center of the group of people, together, and slipped into the knot as it filed past the doorway. The caravan people knew her, and parted for her as much as they were able, until she could join her parents. Jubilee's mother clasped her daughter in her arms, whispering a prayer of thanks, and they hugged each other as they were brought into the town square.

The armed horseman in the lead reined his horse in front of the frightened mass of people. "Duke Gilbert feels that he has not received the proper tithe this town owes him for his protection and benevolent hand," he said in a loud, angry, harsh voice. "He has therefore ordered that the town be destroyed so that all who have begrudged him their taxes and the produce of their land will know he has noticed."

"You can't destroy our town!" One man (the smith, Jubilee saw) shouted. "We'll have no place to live. Tell that duke we're dry! We have nothing we can give him! We can't pay the four gold pieces he's demanding per person, we're poor folk, we don't have that kind of money! Let him appeal to his own coffers for the money he wants; I'm sure they're full enough!" There was a murmur of assent from the townspeople.

The man drew his bow, nocked an arrow, and fired. In less time than it took for Jubilee to blink, the smith fell over, dead with an arrow in his forehead. His wife screamed and fell to the ground beside him, tears streaming down his eyes. "You've killed my man!" She shrieked wildly. "Tell Duke Gilbert he can go to hell!" There was another whiz, and an arrow appeared in her throat.

The townspeople broke out of their knot and began to run in all directions, screaming in terror. Arrows flew, and people fell, screaming in pain. The horsemen ran after the fallen, finishing them off with sword thrusts to the gut.

In the sudden stampede of panic, Jubilee got caught in the tide of people and swept away from her mother and father. She screamed in panic, in terror, trying to get through the crowd to get back to them, but the flood of people were sweeping her further and further away from them, and she fell to the ground, trampled by running feet. Pain erupted in her arms, her ribs, her legs and back and everywhere else. She cowered there on the ground, trying to cover her head with her arms, as the terrified stampede of people ran over and past her. When the feet stopped impacting on her body, she raised her head slowly.

The leader was astride his horse, staring down at her. She stared up at him, her eyes fixing each detail of his face in her memory. Dark, he was, and swarthy; his face was seamed with scars and his huge, hooked, beaked nose was slightly crooked, as if at some point in the past it had been broken and never healed properly.

He dismounted and grabbed her arm, hauling her to her feet. Only then did she realize her hat was gone, and the tight braids wound around her head had come unpinned. One was half-unraveled. "Well, well, a girl, I trow. Dressed as a boy. You make a very pretty boy, let's see if you really are a girl, eh?" And he brought his lips down in hers.

"Leave her alone!" came a shout, and Jubilee twisted in the man's arms, to see her father coming up behind them. Her mother was just a little bit behind him.

The man didn't even blink. He grabbed his sword and thrust, and Jubilee screamed in horror as her father was impaled on that sword. He froze, staring disbelievingly at the length of steel buried in his middle, and Jubilee watched, her own eyes streaming with tears, as the light went out of her father's eyes and he slid off the end of the sword and fell to the ground. Jubilee's mother raced to his side, screaming in grief and anguish, and fell to her knees beside her husband's body. Jubilee struggled in the man's arms, trying to escape, but the man's grip was too strong, and she couldn't free herself. She watched as the sword swept around, in a glittering arc and swept through her mother's body like a knife through butter. Her mother never even saw it coming. Jubilee screamed, a high, short, sharp sound of terror, as her mother's body slumped lifelessly over the body of her husband.

The man grinned and dropped his sword. "Now where were we?" he said, chuckling, as he lowered his head to her face, to plant his fat, disgusting lips against hers.

Something snapped inside Jubilee. This man had just killed her parents! He was _not_ going to kiss her. She struggled against his greater bulk, and then lashed out with her fingers, raking her nails across his face. The man stepped back, dropping her, and brought his hands up to his face as blood spilled between his fingers. Jubilee froze, staring at him, and at the gore and clear fluids that covered her hands, and fled. She ran past the houses, hearing the screams and shouts of the dying people in her ears but too terrified to stop. Behind her, she heard the man screaming hoarsely, a sound of pain and terror, as he called some of his men to pursue her. An arrow whizzed past her shoulder, and she swerved. The forest. She could lose them in the forest. The men, in their armour, couldn't climb trees.

She was just inside the cool greenery when agony erupted in her shoulder as an arrow thudded into her shoulder and side. If she had enough breath in her body she would have screamed; the fact that she didn't may have saved her life. She fell sideways, into a tangled thicket of brambles and thorns, and the green leaves covered her, screened her from sight of the horsemen galloping past.

She was unconscious before she hit the ground.


	2. Sir John Logan

Chapter 2: Sir John Logan

She awoke slowly.

The agony in her shoulder was a burning pain that spread up and down her side, from her ribs up to her skull. She wanted to scream, but foremost in her mind was the thought that some of the soldiers might still be around, so she gritted her teeth and forced her cries back down.

She lay still for a long time, listening. All she could hear was the sound of birds chirping, and the usual sound of the animals going about their business. Desperate to know what had happened, she levered herself up, gritting her teeth from the pain, and then grabbed the arrow shaft sprouting from her shoulder. She clenched her teeth to stifle her cries as she wrenched it out of her shoulder.

The effort almost caused her to pass out from the agony. She lay back against the leaves of the bush, ignoring the way the thorns scratched at her face, hands, and legs, and wept with anguish for a long time until the pain faded off to a manageable level. When she could finally move without having stars swim in her eyes, she climbed to her feet and started to walk.

As soon as she broke out of the tree line she saw the flames. The men, before leaving, had torched every building in the town, andeverything was going up in flames. The wagons were lying on their sides, their contents spilled out on the ground, pawed through and every precious, valuable thing taken from them.

And everywhere there were bodies. All of them still, too still, unmoving, and the smell of blood was thick in the air. Flies were already gathering around the bodies, and Jubilee fell to her knees on the ground and threw up. The sun was just rising now; she guessed that she'd been unconscious moist of the night, since it had been dusk when the armed men had come.

Finished heaving up every last bit of food in her stomach, Jubilee climbed wearily to her feet and started walking. Her eyes roved helplessly over the bodies as she walked past them; she recognized the town's healer, lying on her face with her back sprouting three arrows. A little further on was the minstrel and his wife, who was the town washerwoman; and here lay the cooper, the cobbler, and the town seamstress. Jubilee's eyes filled with tears as she saw the sword-swallower, lying dead with his sightless eyes staring up at the blue sky overhead; and here was David and his twin, and their parents, dead of sword slashes to the belly. Jubilee choked back her sobs as she walked past the Mvembas, the parents dead and the girls lying there with slashed throats and flipped-up skirts, the marks on their bodies mute testimony to the abuse they'd suffered before they died. Madam Sajadi hadn't been spared; neither had anyone else Jubilee knew, from the caravans and the town. She fell to her knees numbly before the bodies of her parents, blinded by tears. "Mother," she sobbed. "Oh, Mother, Father, please wake up, please…" but they would never get up again, and she knew it. Getting heavily to her feet, she went to the small storage building behind the healer's home.

She was still bleeding from her shoulder; sluggishly, but she was still bleeding. She got her shirt off with some difficulty, cleaned the wound as best as she could with water from the stream behind the shed, then took the long lengths of rag that the Healer used for bandaging and wrapped her shoulder as best as she could with them. The sun climbed higher, and brought with it the summer heat. And with the heat, the flies multiplied and the bodies started to smell.

She searched the smith's shop, and found the shovel he used to heap hot coals on the fire. It was heavy, but she could handle it. Dragging the shovel outside, she started digging.

She started at every noise, every sound, afraid that the men would come back, but they never did. Jubilee dug her parents' graves first, tears streaming down her face as she lowered them into the shallow holes she had dug.

"Oh, Mother," she sobbed in heartsick anguish as she laid her mother carefully in the shallow grave that was all she had the strength to dig, "Mother, I don't know what to do, now. I don't know where to go. I hate him, Mother, I hate the man who did this…" In her mind's eye the swarthy visage of her parents' murderer leered at her. "He'll pay for this, Mother, Father, I swear, he'll pay for this…" She carefully removed the sword from her mother's side, and her eyes stared at the blade, stained with her father's blood and her mother's blood. "I will kill him for what he's done," she said again, with steel in her voice. "I promise, Mother, Father, I'll kill him. I don't know how, but I'll kill him." Suddenly determined, she unpinned her braids and grabbed the naked sword blade in her bare hand. She used it to hack her hair off close to her head, and dropped one braid into her mother's grave, and one in her father's grave. The hair, matted with both her mother's, her father's, and her own blood (the blade had cut her palm when she grasped it) was a silent testimony to the determination of the white-faced, trembling girl who started to shovel dirt over her parents' bodies. Then she went grimly out to the meadow outside of town and started digging again.

There was no way one wounded girl could bury everyone that first day, and when dusk fell and she could no longer see what she was doing, she retreated to that storage building to sleep. While she had been digging, she had found the loaf of bread and cheese that she'd hidden behind the tree the previous evening, and she had eaten it slowly, savoring every bite. She was furiously hungry, but the houses had all been burned, and she had no way to make any more. When the food ran out she would either have to forage or she would have to leave and find another town.

She was going to leave anyway. With her hair cut, she could disguise herself as a boy. A boy could get work at the Duke's castle, and once she began to work there she was sure she could figure out where the dark man slept. It would be a simple matter then to slip into his room and slit his throat while he was sleeping. She would be caught, of course; the Duke's men would never let her leave the castle alive; but she didn't care what happened as long as she took the dark man to hell with her. She didn't know his name; but she knew she would recognize his face if she ever saw it again. Every detail was indelibly burned into her memory.

She slept uneasily that night in the healer's storage shed; she could hear the howls of wolves and other wild creatures as they feasted on the bodies that still lay around the burned-out town. She had buried everyone important to her first; her parents, David, his twin, and their parents, and the Mvemba girls; Madam Sajadi, the sword swallower, and the caravan master and his wife. When she woke up the next morning, she was met by the sight of more wolves than she could count; they hadn't left when dawn came. They wouldn't leave such an abundant source of food. Terrified, Jubilee sneaked past the wolves and headed into the forest, knowing there was nothing else she could do in the ruined town.

She walked for days, unsure of where she was going. She didn't dare use the road; what if the armed men were walking along and they found her? She didn't want to risk being killed when she had no way to take the dark man with her. Hunger was an ever-present pain in her belly; a gnawing, empty feeling that she had no way to assuage. She stretched the loaf of bread out as long as she possibly could, eating only when she got to streams. By drinking water between every bite, the bread in her stomach swelled with the water and she could fool her stomach into thinking it was full.

The days were long, and the nights were uneasy. Afraid that some wild animal would corner her (she was still wearing her old tunic, and the bloodstains in it did still smell to her) she climbed a tree every night and slept in their fork. She couldn't go completely to sleep, however; if she relaxed completely she might fall out of the tree. So she dozed fitfully, waking with a start every now and then.

Five days after she had left the ruined town behind, she noticed wearily that the trees were thinning. She rounded one large oak, and looked down on a sleepy little town. This one was much more prosperous; there was an aura of almost palpable well-being. Jubilee, weak from hunger and exhaustion, dragged herself the short distance out of the tree line and out into the main street running through the town. Gathering all of her strength, she made it the last few yards to the door of the town's tavern and pushed the door open.

She got a vague glimpse of a lot of people sitting around at the tables, and dug into her pocket for the few coppers she had salvaged from the wreckage of the caravan's wagons. She stepped into the room, holding the coppers in her fist, and gasped out, "Hungry…please…" and then she passed out, dropping to the floor like a felled tree.

Sir John Logan was the first one to react. He'd stared, along with everyone else, when the door had opened and the ragged, skinny, dirty urchin had walked in. Pulling his eyes away from the skinny body, he'd looked up at the face. The boy's bright blue eyes, such a contrast to the dark, matted hair, had looked dazedly around the room for a moment before the cracked, swollen lips had muttered the word 'hungry'. Then the lad had fallen over, and still no one moved or said a thing.

Except him. He'd taken an oath to protect and help the helpless, and that was what he was going to do. He crossed the room quickly, bent over the lad, and lifted the boy's slight weight in his strong arms, honed by years of battle and swordplay. "Mistress Leeds," he nodded at the woman who kept the tavern. "I'll take the boy up ta my room. Will you send yer servin' girl up with a bowl o' stew, please?" He turned around, ignoring the stunned looks on the faces of the guests of the inn, and mounted the stairs to the sleeping rooms above the common room.

He nudged the door open with the toe of his boot, walked in, then closed the door with a push from the same foot. He put the boy down on the cot, turned and lit the candle in the room with the flint he always carried, and turned to look at the boy.

Young, certainly. Too young to be away from his parents. The face was too thin, as were the exposed part of the arms and legs, and the clothes, which had once been fine, were now travel-stained and dirty. With more than dirt, he realized, looking at the great rip in one shoulder generously stained black around the hole. That was blood on the shirt, if he wasn't mistaken. And a hole like that wouldn't come from a sword, that was plainly an arrow. Logan growled. Who would be shooting an arrow at a little boy? He reached for the thin material, planning to rip it in half so he could look at the clumsily-bandaged wound.

The boy's hand came up and closed around his wrist. The grip was surprisingly strong, for someone so exhausted. "Hey," he said. "I just wanna take a look at yer shoulder."

Those incredible blue eyes pinned him with a glare. "I can take care of myself," said the high-pitched voice. Logan frowned. The kid's voice hadn't started changing yet. How old was he, ten, twelve? Thirteen, at the most, Logan guessed. Not old enough for his voice to have changed, and certainly not old enough to be on his own.

"Coulda fooled me," he said to the boy, but the boy didn't let go of Logan's wrist. Logan finally sat back, withdrawing his arm, and the boy let go of him, but continued to eye him warily. Logan stared at those blue eyes and those long feathery eyelashes (pretty-boy eyelashes, Logan thought). They looked at each other for long moments.

The sound of a tap on the door interrupted their staring contest, and Logan got up to open it. "Your stew, sir," said the homely young girl on the other side of the door. Logan reached for the tray with the wooden bowl of stew on it and nodded curtly to the wench, then closed the door as she headed back downstairs.

The boy was sitting up in the bed, eyeing him warily as he put the tray down on the side table next to the guttering candle. "Well?" Logan said after a moment. "Aren't ya gonna eat?"

The boy looked at the tray with the steaming stew in it. Logan had eaten here before, and while it wasn't the best stew he'd ever tasted, it certainly wasn't the worst. The smell coming from the bowl had to smell pretty good to the kid, who looked like he hadn't eaten a decent meal in a while. "Go on, boy," Logan said, sitting down in a chair. "Eat it while it's hot. It'll taste worse cold."

Still keeping an eye on him, the boy held out one hand, palm open. Logan saw the small copper coin sitting in it, and took the gesture for what it meant. "Naw, don't want it," Logan said, waving it away. "Ain't like one bowl o' stew's gonna make a difference, one way or another." The boy folded his fingers around the coin and shoved it back into a grimy pocket, then picked up the bowl and started eating with single-minded intensity. Logan casually turned away, rummaging in his saddlebag until he came up with another shirt and a pair of trousers. Logan was a short man; the boy, for all his apparent youth, was tall for his age. "I'm goin' out ta tend my horse," he said, tossing the shirt to the boy. "Ain't got no wish ta see yer privates, lad, so get them smelly things off and change into those clean clothes. Then we'll talk." He left the room.

Jubilee put her spoon down in the empty bowl and stared at the pants and shirt. She had woken up here, with this stranger touching her, but apparently she had woken up before he found out her secret. But he had bought her food, and now was giving her clothes…She reached for the clothes, suddenly eager to shed the clothes she was wearing. Slipping into them, she grinned slightly. They were a little on the big side, but that was all for the better; they hid the faint but noticeable outward curves of her hips and the cloth across her chest binding her breasts flat. She had kept herself fairly clean while traveling through the forest; the last thing she'd wanted was to get an infection in her shoulder and die. She'd kept the bandage rinsed and clean; kept her chest wrapping clean; but there hadn't been a way for her to wash her clothes. She'd soaked them at intervals in the streams she passed, but it hadn't been enough to keep them clean.

She shucked the dirty rags and adjusted the binding on her chest, making sure that a casual look at her wouldn't show the binding, then took a strip of cloth from her old shirt and twisted it into a cloth rope, fastening it around her waist to keep the pants on, and sighed as she kicked the dirty clothes aside. Maybe she could persuade the stranger to let her keep these new clothes; she could give him the coppers she had in her pocket to pay him for them. Sighing, she sat down and waited for him to come back in. Her stomach was full of the stew, which, after five days of eating grubby roots and stale bread, tasted delicious to her; and as she sat there, sleep overcame her, and she slipped off into dreamland.

When Logan came back into the room, he saw the boy changed into the fresh clothes, the dirty ones were in a pile in the far corner of the room, and the kid himself stretched out on the bed, sound asleep. Logan eyed him for a moment, an odd smile tugging at the corner of his lips, then sat down.

The poor kid had to be exhausted, to fall asleep like that. Logan smiled. The boy was comely, almost pretty; and pretty boys tended to become toys for the wealthy. Was this boy a runaway? Had the master of the house gone hunting him, and had him shot? Logan ground his teeth at the thought of anyone doing that to a kid. Well, if the kid didn't have anyone looking after him at the moment…Logan's squire had just made knighthood, and had gone off to serve in Prince Stephan's court. Logan hadn't had a squire in a few months; maybe if this boy was amenable to the idea, he could take the boy with him and enter him into page and squire training, and eventually make him Logan's squire. Otherwise, a boy that pretty was going to become prey to the many predators out there.

Yes, it was a good plan. Logan leaned back in his chair, propped his chin on his chest, and drifted off to sleep.


	3. Lee

Chapter 3: Lee

The sound of footsteps in the hall was what finally woke Sir Logan and the mysterious boy up. The kid looked dazed as he stared around the room, then his eyes fell on Logan and the gaze sharpened. The body tensed.

"Hey, I ain't gonna hurt ya," Logan said, holding his hands up in a non-threatening gesture. "I'm a knight. I'm sworn ta protect the weak an' defenseless, assist those who need help, and defend those who've been abused." He sat back in his chair as the boy relaxed a little bit. Just the tiniest bit. "My name's Sir John Logan. I serve in the court of King Richard."

"Lee," Jubilee said. Well, it was her surname. She was familiar enough with it that she wouldn't forget to answer to the name when she was called. And it could pass for a boy's name, where 'Jubilee' was an odd enough name for a girl, let alone a boy.

Logan stifled a sigh. Well, at least he'd gotten a name. "Lee. All right. Where'd you come from? Ya walked inta the common room downstairs last night all tired an' worn out, an' them clothes ya was wearin' looked like they ain't been washed in days. Yer parents know yer here?"

Jubilee's eyes filled with tears. Her parents. She'd been too busy trying to survive the last few days to think about anything beyond the immediate need to obtain food and shelter, but now that she had both, at least for a little while, grief at their senseless deaths pricked her like a sharp knife. "My parents are dead." She had to fight the tears; boys didn't cry. She'd have to start burying her emotions if she wanted to pass for a boy.

Logan saw the boy trying to fight back the tears. "I'm sorry," he said to the kid. And he was. The kid was too young to lose his parents. "What happened?"

Jubilee said, "A band of armed men came and killed everyone in our village." She decided she was going to keep details of the traveling entertainers a secret. Some people might remember them; they had been stopping at a lot of towns around here lately.

"What village?" Logan asked.

Jubilee had to think fast. She hadn't paid much attention to the towns' names. "Brooksmeet," she said.

"Never heard of it," Logan shrugged. "Is it very far?"

"I was walking for five days," Jubilee said softly.

"Then yer village must be in Duke Gilbert's lands," Logan said. "We're right on the edge o' Duke James's lands. 'F ya want, kid, we can go back, see if there's anyone left. I'm a knight in service ta the king; I can cross the Duke's borders if I have ta. That way, if the armed men come back, I'll be there ta protect ya. They ain't gonna attack the King's knight."

Jubilee shook her head. "They killed everyone," she said bitterly. "I couldn't bury them all before the wolves came. I had to leave. The men said something about the people of our town not having paid enough taxes and tribute to Duke Gilbert, and the Duke wanted to make an example of our town."

Logan was appalled. He had seen Duke Gilbert at the King's table during the annual midwinter gatherings; he'd always thought the man a cold, egocentric, selfish person who cared about nothing going on around him so long as he was getting what he thought he was due and he was happy. Logan had never liked the man; he was glad that he, as a King's Knight, reported directly to the King and didn't have to put up with the petty bickering and backstabbing of court politics. "Come on," he said, getting up from his chair. "Let's go downstairs an' grab somethin' ta eat." The boy got up and followed him out of the room.

Mistress Leeds brought them two bowls of porridge as soon as they sat down; Logan flipped her a couple of coppers for the stew, the breakfast, and then a silver coin for the room. The woman smiled at him, then vanished and came back with a thick slice of bread and cheese for the boy. "No charge," she said, ruffling the boy's hair. "Poor lad." She bustled off, and Logan applied himself to the bowl of porridge as the kid attacked the breakfast.

"Now, which way did ya come from?" Logan asked when they were finally standing outside the inn and the hostler was bringing up Logan's horse, a big bay gelding. Jubilee pointed off through the underbrush in the direction she had come, and Logan started walking his horse that way. She followed him.

They stopped at noon for a bite from Logan's saddlebag and drank water from a clear stream that meandered through the trees; Logan saw that keeping up with the horse was tiring the boy, and when they were ready to mount again, he said gruffly, "Kid, why don't ya get on the horse in front o' me? We'll make better time that way."

The kid shook his head. "I'm fine on the ground," he said. Logan blew out his breath in a sigh at the kid's stubbornness and mounted, starting off through the trees again. He'd have to find a horse for the boy to ride, if they couldn't find anyone who would take the boy in. He'd take the boy back to King Edward's castle and have him trained as a squire this winter, and next spring he'd take the boy with him when he went on the spring campaigns.

Jubilee's feet and legs were aching, and she would have welcomed a turn on the horse if she hadn't been sure that such close contact with the knight would have revealed to him her secret. If this knight found out she was a girl, it would be all over; orphaned girls were taken to the local convents to be raised by the Sisters. She would never be able to get close enough to the dark man to kill him. Revenge would be out of the question.

She couldn't risk that. She'd sell her soul to the devil if she had to, to kill the man who had taken her father and mother away from her. And a convent! Jubilee flinched at the very thought. To have to wear the long black dresses, to have to sit and learn to sew and cook and all those things girls had to learn to be good wives. And later, she would either have to get married, or enter the convent as a nun. No, she didn't want that.

Logan stopped his horse an hour before sundown. Not because he was tired, but because the kid looked like he was going to drop over dead from exhaustion. He was slightly surprised at how well the boy'd held up so far; most of the boys he knew would have been whining and complaining about how tired they were by now. His last squire had been like that. Collan had been good, in his own way, and Logan had liked him; but the boy had also been a noble's boy, born to a life that, while not luxurious, had still not prepared the boy for life as a knight's squire. Collan hated having to hunt his own dinner, having to skin and cook the carcass and pack the leftovers to eat later. He hadn't been prepared to sleep on the ground when they hadn't been able to find a town; hadn't been prepared to be wet and cold and tired. This boy, however, seemed used to traveling, and Logan wondered if there were something Lee wasn't telling him. Well, that could come later.

They slept fitfully that night, and rose early the next morning. The boy tramped along steadily beside Logan's horse, silent and uncomplaining. Near noon, Logan started to nudge his horse into a slightly faster pace; would the boy start complaining, or ask him to slow down?

Jubilee noted the change in pace, and started to jog. This knight probably wanted to hurry with this, and get back to whatever he was doing before. She was taking up too much time. No wonder he wanted to hurry. Despite her exhaustion, she picked up her pace, trying to match the horse's gait. It was an effort, and before they'd been walking an hour she was winded and breathing hard, but she bit back her complaints and kept going.

Logan dropped his horse from the fast walk back to the easy amble they'd been traveling at. The boy was determined not to complain; Logan's respect for the boy went up a notch. "Kid, are ya sure ya wouldn't wanna git up behind me," he said finally, reining the horse in. The boy looked up at him, and Logan reached down for the boy's arm, and hauled the small body into the saddle behind him. Lee was small, and slight; Logan's horse could carry both of them easily. The kid reached back and grabbed the edge of the saddle with both hands, and Logan's puzzlement increased. The kid had known what to do before he'd said anything, so he must be used to riding double. He was also not a novice rider; he didn't bounce around on the horse's back like a sack of flour, like Collan had.

When they stopped for the night, the kid slid off the horse and went to collect wood while Logan untacked and hobbled the animal. By the time the boy had the fire fairly started, Logan had returned with a rabbit. "Hey, kid, ya know how ta skin?" he asked, holding up the bloody corpse of the rabbit. The kid grimaced, but reached out and took the bloody rabbit. Logan pretended to fuss with his blanket as he watched the boy skin and spit the meat. He was a little clumsy, and did the job with a grimace of distaste, but the meat certainly smelled good. "Yer good," he said suddenly, and the kid looked up and smiled a moment before returning his attention to the spitted rabbit.

"Seriously," Logan said when he'd finished the rabbit. "My last boy, Collan, hated cookin' rough, and also couldn't skin worth a damn. What was in them leaves an' stuff ya put inside the rabbit?" He'd seen the lad hunting for bits of grass and washed roots to fill the inner cavity of the rabbit with. The meat now had a unique flavor Logan couldn't place.

"Just some herbs my parents used to have me find so they could have food that tasted good," the boy shrugged. "Nothing fancy."

"It's really good," Logan said, smiling at the boy. The boy looked back at him, and then suddenly broke into a smile. Logan blinked, startled. The boy was _pretty_ when he smiled. Could this kid be…a girl? Logan wondered for a moment, then scoffed at himself. A girl would have been whining and complaining by now; there was no way a girl would be able to put up with the rigors of trail life like this. Logan's own mother would have screamed in shock and disgust if his father had ever asked her to skin and cook a dead rabbit. No, this boy couldn't possibly be a girl.

They finished their supper and Logan crawled into his blanket. The boy was sitting by the fire, staring into the dancing flames, when Logan finally closed his eyes. And when he opened his eyes, the boy was still in the same place, though asleep. Logan tried to move as quietly as possible as he got up and went to take care of his morning ablutions, but when he got back to their little camp, the kid was awake. He nodded to Logan and vanished into the brush, presumably to care for his own bodily needs.

This day was a repeat of the day before, though the scenery sped by a little faster. The boy had consented to sit behind Logan on the horse this time, and they made better time. Logan urged his horse into a trot for a while, then dropped the horse back into a walk. Riding like this, they reached the outskirts of a clearing on the evening of the third day.

The kid stood and looked out at the meadow that served as the common ground for the townsfolk's animals, and also as the camping area for the entertainers' wagons. They were all gone. Bandits, or maybe the armed men, had come back and taken everything, and torched the rest. The painted lady on the side of Jubilee's parents' wagon was unrecognizable now under the scorched blackness of the wood. The animals had been at work; here and there was a few bones, and she shuddered as she saw a skull with shreds of rotting flesh crawling with maggots on it. Whoever the person had originally been was gone, the features not even recognizable.

Logan stared at the devastation, and a cold rage built up in him. These were innocent townsfolk. The size of the burned area where their homes and shops had been was very small; they hadn't been a prosperous town. Wagons belonging to some traveling fair were parked outside of town, and Logan saw a good many corpses around them. So Duke Gilbert's men hadn't just punished the townspeople for their poor tithes, they had slaughtered anyone who happened to be there at the moment. Even a traveling fair, whose people probably had never seen most of these people before, hadn't been spared the duke's wrath. He shook his head. It was too bad that no adults had survived the massacre. If one had, Logan could file complaints with the King against the Duke on the townspeople's behalf and could challenge the Duke to a duel to right the enormous wrong that had been done these people. However, from the looks of it, no adults had survived, only one small boy. And he couldn't challenge the Duke on the boy's behalf; the boy hadn't reached the age of majority yet. Shaking his head at the unfairness of it, Logan went to find the boy.

He found the kid kneeling between two slightly mounded heaps of earth; freshly dug graves, Logan surmised. A cross made of two twigs lashed together with yarn was stuck into the top of each mound. "Mother and Father," said the boy quietly, sensing Logan's approach but not looking at him. "I had to bury them first." Logan, unable to think of anything to say, just stood behind the boy quietly as the boy paid his last respects to his obviously much-beloved parents. He was turning away, to leave the boy to his grief, when his foot hit an object half-hidden in the grass. Logan reached down and picked it up.

It was a sword. He inspected the thing, noting the faint but still visible old bloodstains left on the blade, and the quality of the blade. This was no local smith's work; Logan knew that even if he hadn't recognized the maker's mark on the hilt of the sword. The anvil stamped on the base of the blade, just above the guard, belonged to the sword maker attached to King Richard's court. Master Swordcrafter Robert Davenport, a distant cousin of King Richard, used the anvil as his maker's mark. Logan frowned at the device stamped into the grip of the sword; a large black raven carrying a spear in one claw and a shield with the letter 'S' on it. Its owner had been from a house old and noble enough to have its own coat of arms, Logan mused, but it wasn't one he recognized.

"The man who killed my parents killed them with that sword," came a quiet voice from behind him, and he turned to see the kid coming up behind him, the wide blue eyes fixed on the sword. There was such rage, such hatred, in those eyes. Logan sucked in a breath. Whoever this nobleman was, he'd better watch out for this small boy, because Logan figured as soon as this boy could handle a sword he'd be looking for his parents' murderer. The kid wanted vengeance.

He looked at the sword thoughtfully, then bent and picked up the scabbard, lying in the grass beside the sword, dropped and forgotten. Slipping the sword into its sheath, he looked at the boy thoughtfully. "Have you any other relatives who might take you in?" he asked the boy. The kid shook his head.

"I'll make ya a deal," Logan said, looking into those intense blue eyes. "Stay with me. I'll sponsor ya inta the Squire's trainin' program in King Richard's castle. You'll learn everythin' ya have ta know in order ta become a knight. After a suitable period o' time campaignin' with me, I'll submit yer name fer a position as a King's knight. By that time ya should have enough experience, and trainin', ta call out Duke Gilbert and his man fer the death o' yer parents, an' by the laws o' the kingdom ya get ta meet him in a duel ta the death. You'll have a chance ta get vengeance on the bastard who killed yer parents. How's that sound, boy?"

The kid looked up at him. "Really? You'd do that?" he breathed.

Logan felt suddenly uncomfortable. "Well, it ain't all that simple, y'know, yer gonna haveta work hard, an' train, an' yer pretty small fer a boy. Lots o' the other boys're bigger. But yeah, if it's what ya want, I'll do it."

"Yes," the boy said, his eyes glittering. "I'll do anything just to have a chance. I swore when I buried Mother and Father that I was going to kill the man who killed them."

"Then keep yer promise." Logan handed the sword to the boy, hilt first, and the boy took it, looked at it for a moment, then slung the sword by its strap across his narrow back. Logan mounted his horse, and the two of them turned and left the ruined, deserted town.


	4. Traveling Rough

Chapter 4: Traveling Rough

"Keep going," Logan said as the boy paused.

The kid groaned, the first audible sound of complaint he'd heard from Lee all day. Logan sympathized; carrying Logan's saddlebags wasn't easy, with Logan's armor in it, but Logan wanted to start building up the boy's muscle. He didn't have much to begin with, he was too small to have much…but Collan had told Logan what squire training was like in the King's castle. The older squires picked on the smaller boys relentlessly, and the castle's boys (the pages and young sons of the lesser nobility) picked on them too. Logan wanted to get Lee to the point where the boy could defend himself if Logan wasn't around. Lee could learn swordplay with the rest of the squires; but he had to survive the training program and living in the castle first. The older, bigger boys could be extremely rough in their pranks; and the sons of the lesser nobility could be downright cruel. This boy, with his long black eyelashes and big blue eyes, would be a prime target for anyone in the castle. Not only was he smaller and younger than anyone there, but he was, unfortunately, too pretty to escape the jeers and taunts that would be inflicted. Logan had to toughen the boy up, even if it meant he had to be cruel. The boy would understand one day.

Lee paused for a moment, putting the saddlebags down, but Logan didn't stop the horse. Lee finally picked up the saddlebags and hurried on, panting, sweating profusely in the mid-afternoon heat, and Logan grinned to himself. "Kid," he said seriously, "There are a lot of boys in the trainin' program, an' they're all gonna be bigger and stronger than ya. All I can do right now is try an' build some muscle in ya, an' teach ya some basic fighting moves so ya can defend yerself when we finally get there."

"How much further?" the kid panted.

Logan sighed. "Probably about another week or so before we get to the castle, boy."

"No," the boy puffed. "How much further till we stop for the night?"

Logan squinted at what he could see of the sun through the canopy of green leaves high overhead. "Looks like a storm comin'," he said gruffly. "So we're gonna stop soon. Keep movin'."

It wasn't a long time later that those heavy black storm clouds Logan had seen started rolling in. "We stop here," Logan said, stopping his horse under the sheltering boughs of a large pine tree. "Gather some wood for a fire, and get it started. I'll go see if I can rustle up some food for us, but I don't expect I'm going to have much luck. We may have to eat the dried stuff in the saddlebags." He paused. "Ya ever made a lean-to?"

Lee looked mystified, and Logan sighed. "Use vines ta lash together a buncha leafy branches until ya got a small shelter we can sleep under. My horse's tough, he can sit out in the rain…hell, ta his sweaty hide, that rain'll feel good…but we ain't gonna like gettin' wet." He went off into the forest without another word.

When he came back, empty-handed, Lee had made a shelter of sorts. Logan inspected it. The branches were lashed together fairly snugly to a frame made of wooden sticks. What surprised him was that the branches had been woven with other branches, forming an up-and-down, left to right weaving of branches and leaves. The roof of the little structure would keep all the rain out. It wasn't the way Logan would have made a lean-to, but it was something to keep the rain off, and Lee was tending a fire in front of the small shelter. He'd untacked the horse, hobbled and tethered the animal to the trunk of the tree they sheltered under, and had brought the saddlebags in with him. One saddlebag was at the head of Logan's unrolled blanket, the other was at the top of a small cleared place on the ground, cushioned by dead leaves. Logan reminded himself that he'd better get the kid a blanket.

"We'll have to eat the dried meat in the saddlebags," he said grimly to Lee. "Couldn't find anything." Lee nodded, and dug around in the saddlebags, finding the food pack and pulling it out. The dried meat was salty and as tough as old leather; Logan choked down several strips of the stuff before he gave up on the attempt and curled up to sleep in his blanket. The kid finished his portion and crawled to the pile of dead leaves, lying down with a sigh and stretching himself out. His eyes drifted closed, and he was almost immediately asleep.

Logan lay there, watching the boy in the firelight for a long time. He had a lot of respect for the kid; the kid hadn't whined once the whole day. Logan figured he'd had the boy carry the saddlebags for a good four or five hours. Tomorrow it would be six hours, regardless of the kid's aching arms. There was only a week until they got to the castle; Logan was going to make sure the kid could hold his own against any of the other bigger boys before they got there. Tomorrow night they would stop a little earlier and Logan would give the boy some hand-to-hand combat lessons.

He studied the boy's face. Lines of exhaustion and grief were etched into the boy's round face, the shadows under Lee's eyes almost as dark as his hair. The small body curled up on the bed of leaves. Logan reminded himself to tell the boy to wear his shoes while asleep out here; if something happened one couldn't spend precious time trying to find one's boots. And the kid's feet were the smallest he'd ever seen on a boy; shoes that little would be easy to lose. And the kid would _not_ like to have to walk all the way to the castle barefooted, if he did indeed lose his shoes.

He. Logan was starting to have a lot of problems with the word 'he' as it applied to this boy. Lee was too damned pretty, for one. And he didn't walk like a boy, or talk like one, or behave like one. Logan thought, with those eyes and that pretty face, he could have made a passable girl.

And then he grinned at himself. Girls wouldn't have lasted a minute out here. Every girl Logan had ever met was a silly, giggling, empty-headed creature; and he had met a _lot_ of girls. There wasn't a single girl in the castle who hadn't thrown herself at him at least once. Being a twenty year-old knight, the youngest knight in the realm, made the silly chits swoon over him. He, however, found their attitudes annoying, their only slightly-veiled comments and hints to share his bed annoying. He stayed away from them. No, the kid couldn't be a girl. If Lee was a girl, Logan guessed she'd be somewhere about his age; and any girl _that_ pretty and that old would be married by now.

He sighed and closed his eyes. The shelter was pretty good, as far as keeping the rain off him was concerned; he had to give the kid credit for that. Well, at least they'd sleep dry tonight.

He was awakened the next morning by the sound of hoof beats. Rolling out of his blanket, he squinted down the road they'd been traveling and saw two other horses and riders caparisoned with King Richard's colors, the same colors that Logan's saddle blanket and bags wore. He ducked back into the small shelter and nudged the sleeping boy with the toe of his boot. "Come on, kid. Up and around. We got company." He scraped the ashes away from the embers of their campfire as he waited for the kid's inevitable groaning.

When none was immediately forthcoming, he risked a quick look behind his back. The kid was rolling up Logan's blanket and strapping it to the back of his saddle, and packing the remainder of the food back into the saddlebags. Logan raised an eyebrow. The boy was moving stiffly, and was clearly suffering from aching muscles and joints, but not a word was escaping his lips. Logan was impressed.

He was dousing the embers with dirt when the knight he'd seen coming down the road stopped. "Fair day to you, Logan!"

Logan looked up at the man astride the big roan gelding. "Fair day ta ya too, William," he greeted the other knight, reaching up to grasp the other man's forearm in the traditional greeting. "Headin' back ta the castle too?" He gave a brief nod toward the second rider, William's squire Robert.

"Yep," William replied. "Not our turn to serve the winter out on the borders of the King's land." He raised an eyebrow as Lee slipped out of the lean-to and made for Logan's horse to saddle the horse. "Who's that?"

Logan looked back, and grinned. Lee was saddling…or trying to saddle…Logan's black horse. The horse wasn't cooperating. "That's my new squire, Lee," he said to the knight. "Boy's an orphan. Armed men went through his village an' killed everyone, includin' his parents. Presumably mercenaries hired by Duke Gilbert ta scare the village folks in his lands to increase their tithe." Logan snorted. "Went back to the boy's village; the whole place's been torched, an' everyone was killed. The boy was the only one left alive. He didn't have anywhere ta go, an' nobody left ta take him in, so I figured I'd haul him up ta the castle an' make him my new squire. Once he becomes a full knight he can go an' call Duke Gilbert out fer orderin' his village destroyed an' his family killed."

The other knight watched Lee for a while. "He's awfully young, Logan. How old are you, boy? Ten? Twelve?"

Lee paused in the act of bridling Logan's horse and bowed. "Twelve, m'lord knight," he said, respectfully. "Thirteen at the winter solstice."

William hemmed. "Don't look thirteen to me," he said as Logan mounted up.

"He's one o' them rare foreigners from way back east, an' I think I heard say that they come a lot smaller'n us. He's a mite short fer his age." Logan turned the horse around, letting the horse flex his muscles, and nodded to Lee. "Pick up them saddlebags an' let's get goin'." Lee bent to pick the bags up, and William watched in surprise as the kid started to walk determinedly in the direction they were traveling at. "He's going to carry your bags?"

Logan dropped his voice as his horse fell into step beside William's. "Look at the boy, William. He's a skinny little thing. Ya an' I both went through squire trainin' at the castle; ya know how hard it is. And ya know how the pages an' the nobles' sons are. Lee's gonna get pushed around an' kicked around if he don't develop some muscle an' learn ta defend himself. I got a week till we get to the castle; I'm gonna spend that week pushin' him ta his limits ta toughen him up 'fore he's gotta face all them boys at the castle." He turned to William's squire. "Robert, ya wanna talk ta the boy 'bout what he can expect from the pages and other trainees? Ya been through it all already." He grumbled, "Hell, I been through it only a couple years ago."

"Yeah, we both did," William said, grinning at Logan. "You were the runt of our group, too, if I remember right. And you did get picked on a lot, especially in the beginning. Remember John? He hated you, and you hated him. Remember the time he bloodied your nose; you turned around and broke his arm! Think he left you alone after that."

"Yeah," Logan rubbed the bridge of his nose, remembering. "He did, more or less. I wanna teach Lee how ta protect himself so he don't gotta put up with anybody bullyin' him around."

Lee seemed to hold up better that day, and didn't have to stop so often. Logan wondered if the boy was getting used to the weight, then decided that the boy just didn't want to be thought of as a weakling by Robert. When the four of them stopped for a noon meal, William and Logan went hunting while Robert taught the boy what he needed to do. When the knights came back with a brace of rabbits, he taught the boy to clean and skin the animals, then taught Lee to roast them. The boys made a quick meal, and then as the knights continued to eat, Robert took the smaller boy out to the middle of the field. Logan watched.

"I'm going to come after you," Robert said. "How are you going to fight me?"

Lee shrugged. Robert rolled his eyes, then without any further warning, he lunged for the smaller boy. Lee slid aside so fast Robert stumbled past him two or three steps before he realized Lee was no longer there. Blinking, Robert charged him again. Lee again slid to the side.

Robert lunged for Lee again, but as Lee started to slide aside again, Robert changed direction and grabbed for the smaller boy. In a movement Logan would never have thought possible, the smaller boy bent over backwards, so far back he looked like his spine was going to snap, then executed a somersault on his hands and rolled out of the way of Robert's grasping hands. Robert stopped and stared stupidly at the empty space in front of him for a moment. Lee took that moment to sweep behind the taller, older boy, and kick the back of Robert's knees in. Robert thudded to his knees on the ground.

Logan had to rub his chin with his hand to hide the smile that threatened to slip out. Robert lay on the ground, spitting leaves and grass for a moment, before he rolled over and eyed Lee, who was standing with his hands on his hips and grinning at the older boy. "Where did you learn that?"

Lee looked suddenly uncomfortable. "My mother was an acrobat. She used to perform with a caravan of traveling entertainers. She taught me some stuff. I found it was useful against village boys who thought I was an easy target."

"So you have some experience with fighting, eh?" Robert smiled. "Don't think there's much I can teach you. Oh, wait, that sword you're carrying on your back; can you handle it?"

"No, Logan said that the swordmaster would teach me that."

"Well, it's not going to help much if you can't even pick up a sword. And the wooden ones they use for practice are heavy. The muscles in the arm used for swordwork are different from the ones used to carry saddlebags and packs. Here." Robert drew his own sword, and indicated that Lee should do the same. The tip bowed immediately; Lee couldn't hold the weight fully extended. "Grab the hilt. Both hands; you'll learn to handle it in each hand later from the swordmaster. Now, I want you to hold it out, at chest height and arm's length, as long as you can." Lee obeyed, his arms trembling with the strain, and only managed to hold the heavy sword out for a short time before his arms lowered. "Oh, come on," Robert said, half-mockingly, half-encouragingly. "Longer. Raise it, and hold it longer."

By the time Logan and William were ready to move on, Lee's arms were shaking from the strain of holding such a weight for long periods at a time. As he wearily shouldered the saddlebags and started walking, Robert mounted his horse and walked beside the boy. Logan listened to the stories Robert was telling Lee about the Squires' training master at the castle, and grinned. He could imagine the man's face when he brought the little boy up to him.

When Logan had been presented to the Squiremaster for training, the man had stared at him. "Little small, aren't you?" Logan had been seventeen at the time, but he'd been mistaken for fourteen by everyone because he was shorter than everyone else. However, he'd made up for the lack of height by learning his lessons faster than anyone else, and then later by pushing himself to the limit and getting extra sword practice whenever he could. Now, two years after attaining knighthood, here he was, about to shepherd another kid, like himself, into the program. But Logan knew this kid would be able to do it. What he lacked in height and physical strength he more than made up for in sheer stubbornness and will.

Over the next week he watched the boy improve markedly. The boy got thinner in some places as baby fat melted away, and muscle appeared in those arms that hadn't been there when Logan had picked the boy up. He was still clumsy with a sword, but at least now, when Robert engaged him in sword drills and mock combat when they stopped for meals, the boy could handle the sword with at least some familiarity. He still tired easily, but that was to be expected; he was still growing, after all. By the time the group of four approached the gates of the city snuggled up against the castle walls, Lee was carrying Logan's saddlebags and barely noticing their weight.

Logan smiled as they waved to the guard at the gate and rode on through. He was looking forward to being here for the winter. Last winter he had been on duty riding the borders, and he and his horse had both developed a hearty dislike of the cold. Wintering at the palace meant comfort and a good meal every night. He wouldn't have to rough it. And (he smiled at the thought) he would be able to watch the squires train. He wanted to see how his protégé would get along.

"I'll take Lee to the Squiremaster if you want to get settled in the knights' quarters, Sir Logan," Robert said, and Logan nodded. Lee draped Logan's saddlebags across his horse's rump, then headed off after Robert with one last look at Logan. Logan nodded encouragingly to the boy, and watched as he disappeared out to the buildings where the squires lived and trained.


	5. The Castle

Chapter 5: The Castle

Jubilee stared at the castle. She had been overwhelmed by the town; she was speechless at the sight of the castle. She'd never seen such a huge stone building before. King Richard lived there, with the Queen and the Princes; she wondered if she'd ever see them up close. Not likely. She turned for one last look back at Logan before following Robert out of a side door and out to the squires' training complex.

She was confused. She'd never felt anything for any man before; maybe a little flicker of attraction for David, but on the whole, she'd never met any male who captured her attention the way Sir Logan had. She knew the knights would have their own quarters inside the castle; she knew that she, as a squire-in-training, would have to live wherever squires-in-training were supposed to sleep. She might not see him for a while, and her heart felt like a heavy weight in her chest.

She was also uneasy. With so many people around, it would be harder than ever to hide her secret; but if she wanted her revenge, she would have to. Well, since very few people here had seen an Easterner before (she had seen people staring at her as they walked through the town) maybe she could claim it was against her people's custom to be seen unclothed. Hey, for all she knew, maybe it was. Her parents had never said anything about it, but she noticed her father never changed around the other men in the caravan. Sighing, she stopped in front of a heavy wooden door as Robert opened it, then walked through at his mute wave.

"And what have we here?" came a gruff voice. Jubilee swallowed hard and raised her eyes to the mountain of a man behind the desk in the middle of the room.

He was tall, maybe six and a half feet. He was just as impressive in breadth as he was in height. Jubilee had never seen a man so tall and so impressive-looking before; his arms were equipped with enough muscle to be the size of her legs! She stood in front of him, unable to speak even though she could hear Robert hissing at her to say something.

"Aye, come on, lad, I won't bite," the man said suddenly, and the face that Jubilee had been comparing to a statue carved in marble broke into a broad smile. The weathered skin at the corners of the brown eyes wrinkled into smile lines, and the lips stretched into a wide white crescent with one tooth missing in the front. The sudden contrast between the forbidding mountain of a man and the smiling, gap-toothed giant that now confronted her broke her out of her startlement and she smiled. "Lee," she said.

The giant grinned wider. "Lee," he said. "Well, short name for a short lad. Easy to remember. And which knight is sponsoring you in, eh? He needs to have his head examined for sending such a youngster in here."

"Sir Logan, and there's nothing wrong with his head!" Jubilee surprised herself by saying. "My village was attacked and everyone was killed. I was the only one who survived. Sir Logan took pity on me and he said I could come here with him and learn to be his squire, and eventually a knight."

The man sat down, pulling a piece of parchment toward him and scribbling something on it. "Sir Logan, hey? Looks like he's following tradition. Sending boys no bigger than he was when he first came." He smiled at her surprised look. "Oh, aye. Logan was the runt of the group we took in that year. Seventeen, and he already had a chip on his shoulder, a lot of muscle, and an attitude that made him the worst fighter. He never started the fights, but if there was trouble, he was in the middle of it. Half the gray hairs on my head came from your mentor." Jubilee looked at the man's head, which was balding on the top and salt and pepper on the sides and back, and smiled again. "Don't you turn the rest of that gray, all right?" he stood and looked at Robert. "Thank you for escorting the boy here. I'll take him from here." Robert nodded, turned, and gave Jubilee a wink before he left the room.

"I'm Francis, by the way," the man said, grinning that gap-toothed grin again. "I'm the Squiremaster around here. I take care of the boys training to be squires, and those who are squires and whose knights reside here. Don't worry, you'll see your friend Robert soon." He stood, patted Jubilee's shoulder and opened the door to the room. "Come on. Let me show you around."

Jubilee gulped as he led her down a series of corridors. She'd never been really good at directions, and this place was so big…she followed the big man through the maze of halls, almost stepping on his heels in her anxiety not to get lost.

They turned and went through a large, heavy door, and Jubilee blinked as she suddenly found herself outside, with bright sunshine beating down on her. The man paused just long enough for her eyes to adjust to the brilliance of the midmorning sun, and then strode across the dusty space and opened the door to a long, low building. Jubilee stepped inside.

The room was equipped with beds on either side of a central aisle, and each bed was accompanied by a chest at its foot. Each chest had a nail with a piece of paper hanging from it, and the papers had names written on them. Francis walked down the rows of beds until he found a bed and chest with no identifying tag on the nail, and speared the paper he had been carrying on the nail. Jubilee saw that it had her name, Lee, on it. So this was to be her bed and chest. This was where she would sleep. In a room full of boys. She gritted her teeth grimly. She'd just have to be careful not to change in front of them. There should be privies outside; she would change in one of them. "There's your bed," Francis said cheerfully. "Did you bring anything with you, except that sword on your back?"

Jubilee shook her head. All she had were the clothes on her back, which weren't even hers; they were Logan's; and the sword. She swung the sword down off her back and placed it carefully in the bottom of the chest; someday she would find the owner of that sword and run him through with it. Whatever she had to go through in this training school, and then going out on the campaign afterward, would be worth it if she could kill the man who killed her parents. "My village was burned to the ground," she said quietly. "There was nothing left."

"Well, I'll see if the castle's washerwoman has got any clothes that the page has outgrown for you," he said. "For now, well, let's take you along to the classes." They left the squires' barracks, and went back in the main part of the castle. "This hallway," Francis said, indicating the long hall that they had just come down, "Will probably be the only place you will need to see on a daily basis, except the dining hall. All your classrooms are here, and weaponry and equitation classes are held outside, in that dirt square between the sleeping barracks and the castle. You'll be assigned a horse for the equitation classes."

"But I already know how to ride a horse," Jubilee protested.

"You may already know how to ride a horse, youngster, but can you swing a sword and ride at the same time? Can you handle a lance and ride at the same time? Can you duck an opponent's sword and still stay on the horse?" Francis's voice was kind, but his face was serious. "You've heard of the war we're having right now with King Gallas, now, haven't you? If your mentor's wintering here, then that means he's going out with the king in the spring to the war. You'll be expected to wait on him, clean his equipment and gear, and follow him wherever he goes. You may need to get involved in the fighting, which is why you're taught now. Everything we teach you here is for a good reason, boy, and don't forget that. Some of the pages and nobles' sons who attend the squires' classes, especially the weaponry and equitation ones, might sigh and make faces from the tedium of the courses, but a true squire wants to serve his knight to the best of his ability. To do that you _must_ learn everything we teach you here, and learn it so thoroughly that you can do it almost on instinct, in your sleep, or even in the middle of a battlefield with the screams and shouts of dying men around you. Only then can you become a knight. And if I catch you making the stupid faces at your teachers that those foppish nobles' sons make, I'll tan your hide myself. Got me?" Jubilee nodded seriously. "Good. Now, here's your first class." He tapped on a heavy oaken door, and opened it. "Excuse me, Sir Handel," he said to the man pacing in the middle of the classroom. "I have a new student for you. This is Lee, Sir Logan's new squire." He gave Jubilee a gentle push into the classroom.

Jubilee stumbled forward a few steps, and froze. The classroom was equipped with rough wooden benches in rows down the room, and the boys were seated five to a bench. She did a quick count; there were six benches, though only four were being used currently; that meant that there were twenty boys here as trainees. There were two rows of boys in the front wearing a plain brown tunic, leggings, and boots; all of them were the same. Two of the boys on the next bench wore the red and gold livery of a servant; Jubilee guessed that they were the pages from the castle. And the last eight wore rich clothes of very fine cloth; Jubilee figured immediately that these were the 'noblemen's sons' she had to watch out for.

"Well, Lee," said the kindly-looking man in the front of the class. "My name is Sir Peter; I teach reading and writing and figures. Kindly come in and have a seat." He surveyed the benches. "As you are a trainee, we shall put you in the trainee's section. George, if you would move a little down on the bench, there are only four of you, Lee should be able to squeeze in the end there." A dark-haired boy obligingly moved over, and Lee sat down on the end of the bench, feeling self-conscious. The boys were dressed neatly in the brown tunics; she was wearing a faded beige one (well, it might have been white once under all the stains) and pants that were dark with travel dust. She gave the boy next to her a tentative smile, but the boy just stared at her harder. She bit her lip and looked down as a slab of wood and a piece of wood burned black at the tip was handed to her. Some sort of writing instrument, she figured; she drew a line on the thin slab of wood, and then rubbed at it with her finger; the marks came off easily. Of course they'd use something that could be used over and over again; parchment and quill pens were too expensive to waste on trainees. "Thank you, Francis," Handel nodded to the big man. "I'll have one of the boy's group mates take him around the rest of the day." Francis grinned, nodded amiably to the knight, then nodded to Jubilee and made his exit.

"Now, back to what I was saying," the man said, and took a piece of burned stick and wrote on the big, smooth slab of wood behind him. "Basic figures. I want all of you to copy these down and figure them out. When you are done, I want you to bring your work up to me, and I will check to be sure your answers are correct. Lee, do you know how to do these? Do you need me to explain them?"

Jubilee looked at the numbers on the board. Her father and mother had taught her to figure already; she needed to know how much money she earned, so counting, multiplying, and dividing were the first things she was taught after writing her name. And she knew she was lucky she knew it, too; most girls were taught only what they needed to know to become good housewives. Her parents had taught her everything she needed to know in order to care for herself if something happened to them. She felt tears prick her eyes at the thought of her parents, and shook her head, indicating she was fine with the figures, and bent her head over the problems she was copying and working out. They were easy, and she finished soon. While the others were still writing, some counting on their fingers, she had a chance to examine the boys around her.

She was the only Easterner; she supposed that accounted for the stares. They were also all bigger than she was; although, she supposed, the only ones close to her age were three of the well-dressed boys in the back of the room who were pushing and jostling each other, and two of the tall trainees in brown. She was seventeen; and easily equal to the age of any of them there, which would have given her a distinct advantage. But unless a boy was 'thick', his voice would have changed by the time he was seventeen; and she didn't look like a seventeen-year-old boy either. She barely looked like a seventeen-year-old girl, either, even before her hair was cut. Here, she had to pretend she was thirteen. She'd never pass for a 'thick' boy; if she wanted to do that she'd have to drool and wet herself! And she was _not_ doing that.

She didn't want to seem like she was trying to outshine the other boys, so she waited for the first couple of boys to go up and come back with their corrections before she went up. One of those noble boys were leaving Handel's desk as she approached his desk; he gave her a hard glance as he walked past her back to his space on the bench. Handel looked at the neat copying and figures, glanced at the answers, and smiled. "All correct," he said. "Please have a seat until the others are done."

She smiled at her work as she went down the aisle back to her seat, and sat down. After a moment, she felt an uncomfortable prickling at the back of her neck, and turned her head to see who was staring at her. It was the boy who had preceded her to the desk. He stared at her as he got up and walked back up to the desk in front of the room. Sir Handel looked at the wooden board, shook his head, and sent the boy back to his seat with an admonition to try again. He stared at Jubilee as he walked back to his seat. She blinked at the look of frustrated anger in his eyes.

The boy went up again a few moments later, and this time when Sir Handel shook his head again, the boy broke the silence of the room. "I am not going to go back and do it again," he said scornfully. "I want you to tell me the answer. I don't know why Mother wanted me to take this stupid class anyway; I wanted to go hawking instead. I don't need to learn to figure; I am my father's first-born son. I'll have stewards to keep track of the household accounts for me."

Sir Handel's voice was even. "I will not tell you the answer; you will need to figure this out yourself. Yes, when you are the head of your family, you will have stewards to do your household accounts as well…but you will want to check them as well, in case your steward cheats you, or takes more than he is entitled to." This silenced the boy; he went back to his seat on the bench and bent over the figures again.

Jubilee was immensely relieved when the distant sound of a bell sounded somewhere in the castle. All the boys put down their charcoal sticks and wooden slates. "Lee, Thomas, Philip, James, Timothy, Robin, David, Charles, John, Joseph, and Andrew, you may wipe your slates clean. The rest of you who have not yet gotten all the problems worked out, write your names on the top of your slates and stack them here. We will work on them tomorrow." The ten students (including Lee) who had been told to wipe their slates did so, and they all filed past the knight's desk. Slates that still had work on them were in one pile, clean slates went on the other.

Jubilee paused outside the classroom door, wondering where she was supposed to go, and what was happening now. The pages were going one way, the nobles another. She finally started uncertainly after the group of brown-clothed figures.

The last one in the group turned and smiled. "Oh, I forgot," he said. "Hey. I'm Robin. That's Thomas, and this is John. Joseph, Michael, Vincent, Timothy, David, and Charles. We're all squires in training." He smiled at Lee. "You're Lee, right?" Jubilee nodded.

"So which knight is your sponsor?" Robin asked. "I'm Sir Lowry's squire."

"Sir Logan," Jubilee said.

A ripple ran around the crowd of boys as they resumed walking to…wherever they were walking. "Sir Logan?" Thomas broke the silence. "He swore he'd never take another squire after Collan left."

"And one so little, too," Robin said. "Not to down you, kid," he said with the patronizing air of an older brother. "It's not that that's a bad thing, really, but you're so little. Let me warn you right now. Nathan-that's the boy who had a fit in front of Sir Handel—he's one of the nobly-born who think we're beneath him…will take an interest in you. He and his crew are a bad lot. Last year they got on Sam's…that's my big brother's back about his hair, and they sneaked up on him one night and cut it all off. His hair's the same color as mine, by the way." Jubilee looked at the boy's bright, flaming red hair, and nodded. She could see how he must get teased for that. "He won't pick on me this year; Sam's squire to Sir Ronald, and Ronald's the King's personal guard. He knows if he picks on me Sam will tell Ronald, and Ronald will tell Nathan's dad, the Duke of Albany. And the Duke will have a fit. But he might pick you. You know, you're almost too pretty to be a boy; he's sure to pick up on that. Maybe you should cut some more of your hair a different way so you don't look so girly." He flushed. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean that to come out the way it sounded…"

"Hey!" came a voice from the hall, and the boys turned around. Jubilee's heart leaped. It was Logan. "How ya doin', kid?" he asked as he caught up to her and the boys.

"We're showing Lee how to get to the dining hall," Robin said. "He just had his first class."

Logan nodded, not paying attention to the boy. He was looking at Lee. "Ya pay attention ta yer teachers, eh?" he told Lee. "Don't be like them silly noble boys?" Jubilee nodded, her mouth dry, and Logan pushed open the door to the dining hall. There was a cluster of tables along a high dais at the top of the room where the King and the nobles would sit; another, larger group of tables where the nobles, knights, and squires would sit, and, at the back of the room, the tables where the servants and trainees sat. Jubilee found herself sitting between Robin and Thomas, and Robin swept a plate off a pile of the ones the servers were passing around for her. Then the serving platters were passed around, and they started to eat.


	6. Training

Chapter 6: Training

Jubilee was swept along with the boys as they went from class to class, room to room. By the time dusk fell and the trainees were told to head back to the barracks to sleep, she was so tired she could almost have fallen asleep on her feet. She heartily wished that she were still on the trail with Sir Logan and Robert and Sir William; things were so much simpler. The boys stripped in the barracks for bed, completely unabashed; they were all boys, right? Jubilee turned pink at the sight of so much male skin showing, and beat a hasty retreat out to the privies, where she hurriedly changed into the sleeping clothes she had found folded on the end of her bed. Francis must have found the washerwoman, and he must have had a pretty good eye, because everything in the folded pile fit her perfectly. There was also a slate and a few sticks of charcoal wrapped in rags; she now had a slate of her own, and on that slate Francis had written, 'Clothes will be replaced when you grow out of them.' Jubilee smiled to herself. She was pretty much done growing; these would fit her a while, then. She might get a little taller, but that was about it.

When she walked back into the barracks she pushed her old, sweaty, dusty clothes into the basket under her bed. "What happens to them?" she asked Thomas, who was in the bed on her right side.

"We have to wash them ourselves," Thomas made a face. "They say it's practice for when we're on campaign with our knights and we'll be expected to wash their stuff and ours. We gotta be able to take care of all the stuff they need done."

Jubilee shrugged. "Sounds reasonable. I mean, if they're so busy fighting and all, seems like they need someone to take care of the. After all, they're sort of protecting us, so it makes sense that we're to take care of them, right? Kind of like a body servant, or…" she trailed off.

"Like what?" Thomas asked sleepily.

"Nothing," Jubilee lay down and pulled the blanket over her body. "I'm tired. Let's go to sleep."

But she was still awake long after the rest of the barrack's residents were asleep. Being a squire…it had occurred to her, as they were talking, that being a squire was much like being a knight's wife. Her mother did all those things for her father; washed his clothes, cared for the harnesses and saddles used on their trick ponies, kept all the leather riding gear he needed for his tricks oiled, supple, and usable, and polished his sword and the daggers he used in his act. How was that any different from what a squire was required to do for his knight? And deep down, she admitted to herself, she liked the idea of cleaning Logan's clothes. Because while she did that she could pretend she was his wife, and she was taking care of him.

_Ah, hell, Jubilee,_ she told herself. _Admit it, you like the man. No, wait. Love the man. You're in love with Sir Logan. But look, it's never going anywhere, because he thinks you're a thirteen-year-old boy. He doesn't know you're a seventeen-year-old girl. And even if he did know, what makes him think he's going to love you back? Even if you did tell him one day…what do you think he's going to feel like, knowing you lied to him about who you really are? And besides, he's twenty. He's old._ But no matter how she tried, she couldn't stop her heart and stomach from getting that fluttery feeling at the thought of his face, the sound of his name on her lips, the feel of his hand brushing her hands when he had handed the sword to her. She finally sighed to herself and determinedly closed her eyes.

When she opened them, it was morning.

The day started out with breakfast in the great hall. Logan was present at this meal, and gave her a wink and a nod as he went up to the tables. She ate her breakfast, happy, and followed her training mates to the classroom. This first class taught reading, and history. Most of the history lessons were centered on the current war with King Gallas; the knight who taught the class wanted them to understand how the war had started, and why.

It had started, as many wars did, over land. Gallas wanted more; and the only one he could see to take it from was King Richard. Gallas's kingdom was a tiny slice of land with the sea on one side and the rest of his borders touching King Richard's domains. He had then gone to war with Richard. His army, however, was larger than Richard's, and Richard had to leave knights to guard his other borders, so he couldn't devote his attention to the war with Gallas. The war had raged on for nearly three years now; and they were all getting tired of it. In the spring King Richard was going to take a large company of knights to the border and settle the war, once and for all. "The King hopes that this final wave of fresh knights will break the back of Gallas's army. By summer he hopes that we can be safely back here in the castle, and the war will be a memory. Various noblemen, such as Duke Gilbert and Duke Roarke, are raising the numbers of their own personal guards, so that their troops will be able to join the conflict this spring."

Jubilee absorbed all this information. The caravan traveled between towns, and sometimes weeks went by without hearing news. She listened carefully as the teacher asked questions about the lesson, and was relieved to realize that she had paid enough attention when he asked her a question and she answered it correctly. It was a different story when the knight asked Nathan a question. Nathan replied, haughtily, that he didn't have to worry about what caused the war because, as first son, he would never need to go near battle lines. He was too precious, as the heir to his father's lands and titles, to risk in a stupid war. Jubilee shook her head quietly. Even if you were not going to fight, shouldn't you know what was happening in the kingdom you lived in?

Unfortunately for her, Nathan saw her headshake and her obvious disdain for his contempt of the lessons. As the class was dismissed to go outside for the weaponry classes, he caught her in the hallway alone. "So you think you know better, huh, pretty boy?" he mocked Jubilee. "Well, let me tell you something; the way you look, I wouldn't worry about going off to fight in a war. Your pretty face will guarantee you a place in some lord's household to be treated like a mistress's favored pet." He smirked. "Maybe I'll ask my father to get your mentor to release you to him. My mother likes pretty male servants." Jubilee went hot, then cold at the thought of spending her days as a servant in some noble's house. She'd never have the freedom to do what she wanted to do then! She broke away from Nathan and hurried down the corridor, heading outside for the weaponry classes.

The instructor for this one seemed pleased that she had arrived earlier than the others (most of them were changing intoother clothes, not wanting to get their new brown uniforms dirty. Jubilee, however, only had the uniform, and saw no point in going to change into what was, for her, the same new clothes. "You are the new squire, are you not?" the man boomed. He was shorter than Francis, but he had the same breadth of shoulder and muscular arms. "Let us see how you handle a sword."

Jubilee gasped audibly when she picked up the wooden practice sword. It was much heavier than the sword she had in her personal items chest; now she was thankful that Logan had made her carry his saddlebags, and that Robert had trained her in basic sword drills every time they stopped. She wasn't hopeless with the sword; though, when she looked at the other students with the practice swords, they were much better than she was. She wondered if she would be allowed to take the practice swords out for practice of her own.

The man seemed surprised. "You have more muscle than I expect from such a small lad," he boomed. "Let me place you with a more experienced swordsman so that you can learn from him." He pursed his lips, then turned and looked at the field, looking for one student in particular. "Ah," he said, satisfied. "Nathan!"

Jubilee's heart sank as the boy came up. "Yes?"

"That is 'yes, Sir York' to you, lad," the weaponsmaster said, punctuating his words with a slap from theflat of his bladeto Nathan's buttocks. "I want you to work with the new boy. He is inexperienced, and you have the advantage of having been taught to wield a sword since you were younger than he, so you two are now practice partners. Go ahead and work." He waved the two of them off to one side of the practice ground.

"Hold your sword like this," Nathan said without preamble, and rearranged Jubilee's two-handed grip on her sword. The new position did not feel comfortable, and her movements were awkward. She shook her head.

"My hands aren't comfortable holding the sword like that," she said, readjusting her grip. "I traveled here with Sir Logan and Sir William and his squire Robert, and Robert said because my hands were smaller I should hold the sword like this."

"We're not on the road!" Nathan said sharply, rapping her knuckles with the flat of his practice sword. "The weaponsmaster says we have to hold the sword like this, so that's how we have to hold it." He readjusted her grip, to the uncomfortable, unnatural one, and assumed an attacking position.

By the time the weaponsmaster called a halt to the class, Jubilee's knuckles were close to bleeding from the number of times her fists had been struck by Nathan's practice blade. She winced as she put her practice sword back in the box with the others and hurried off, avoiding the weaponsmaster's eyes so he wouldn't see how close to tears she was. She slipped into the barracks, grabbing her old, dirty shirt from the basket under the bed and tearing two strips from the end of the tunic. She wrapped them around her hand, over the knuckles; it would protect her hands from the rough leather reins during their next class, which was equitation.

The instructor was a slender old man; as much the opposite of Francis and the weaponsmaster as she could possibly imagine. He was medium-height, with hair so blond it was almost white; light blue eyes and a frail build made it look like he would break in a strong gust of wind. But when he cut a horse out of the common herd for her to ride, she saw the muscles in those sinewy arms, and realized that that frail-looking exterior was misleading.

She tacked the horse up and mounted when they were told to, and they all spent some time walking, trotting, cantering, and galloping. Jubilee liked this horse; he wasn't like the rough ponies her parents trained (they were all her family could afford) but this horse felt like one bred for a noble's stable. The horsemaster had them all get into a line, and she listened to his instructions. "I am going to come at you, with a practice sword," he said. "I will slash at you. Your goal is to avoid being touched by the sword, and also not fall off. Now, may I have the first student."

Jubilee watched the man swing. It wasn't unlike the exercise her mother did; there was a part of her parents' act where her father would trot his horse clockwise, and her mother would get her horse going counterclockwise. Then she would stand on the horse's bare back. Her father would slash at her, sometimes high, sometimes low; her mother had to duck or jump over the blade. Jubilee, intrigued, had joined her parents in the act. She was good; her acrobatic skills helped her a lot.

It was finally her turn. She waited for the signal, and began to trot her horse at the horsemaster, never taking her eyes off the side of his neck. The big muscles at the junction of the neck and shoulder would bunch up to raise the sword; as soon as she saw that, she switched her attention to the sword tip as she started to duck. Then she used the trick she used with her parents; she squeezed her thighs together to grip the horse's girth, in order to keep her balance; then she leaned back, all the way back, until the back of her head touched the horse's rump. Her back protested mildly; it reminded her that she hadn't done any of her stretching and flexing exercises in a while, and she made a mental note to herself to start those exercises again.

The instructor looked mildly surprised as the sword whistled a good five inches above her nose. Jubilee sat back up as her horse cantered past, then turned him and cantered back. This time, she leaned sideways, feeling the muscles in her side stretch as she did so. Yes, she was definitely out of shape. She'd have to keep herself supple; it looked like her acrobatic skills were going to come in handy here.

"That was well done indeed," the man said when she had stopped her horse. "Extraordinary flexibility. Where did you learn that?"

She told him the same story she had told Logan. "My mother used to perform with a traveling fair. She taught me all kinds of acrobatic and horseback tricks."

The man nodded amiably. "A good skill to have." He was about to return to his place and call the next student, when Nathan called out, "But you didn't tell us we had to do tricks!"

The horsemaster stopped. "Nathan, the point is to avoid the blade coming at you. It does not matter so much _how_ you do it, so long as you _do_ avoid it." He turned to Jubilee. "Did anyone see how this boy actually did it?"

"He started to duck as your sword came up," Robin said, awed. He'd been knocked from his horse by that sword. "How did he know you were going to swing?"

"Lee?" the horsemaster said.

"I watched you," Jubilee said. "Everyone else was watching your eyes. It's a good way to tell someone's going to make a move if the person's wearing armor, I guess, but I was watching your shoulder. When you went to raise the sword I saw the muscles bunch up, and I started to duck just then, as you started to swing. By the time you got the sword up high enough to swing, I was already under the path of the swing."

The man smiled. "An excellent point. I shall have to wear armour, or something that conceals the movement, for our next lesson. An observant young man." He nodded once to Jubilee, then turned and headed back to his place and beckoned to his next student.

The hour after the equitation class was a free hour, when the trainees and student could do what they pleased. The other trainees headed off to do whatever, but Jubilee, thinking vaguely that she really should get some stretching done, tucked her shirt securely into her leggings, shucked her shoes, and stayed out in the field. She started with basic stretches, toe touches, back bends, and the like, then closed her eyes, pretending there was an imaginary crowd, and folded easily into a handstand. She walked on her hands for a short distance, then touched her toes to the back of her head. Again, her back muscles protested; she really was out of shape. She took her toes off her head, bending over a little more sharply backward so her feet could touch the ground over her head, and stood easily. She went into a couple of dive rolls to stretch her back the other way, then a few handsprings and a cartwheel. Then, feeling exhilarated, she began to practice the moves she had perfected for the nobles. It was a dance with a combination of rolls and cartwheels, turning an athletic exercise into an exhibition of grace. She finished with a one-legged stand, the other leg pulled high over her head from the back, then dropped her leg, panting.

A burst of applause startled her, and she whirled. Two gorgeously-dressed people, one man and one woman, were standing by the fence, mounted on horses. Around them were an assortment of others dressed in stiff leather that was only one step down from armour. She stood there, gawking for a moment, before her eyes caught sight of a familiar black horse to the King's left. Her eyes traveled upward until she saw Logan's face. He realized she was looking at him, then jerked his head quickly, almost imperceptibly, toward the man. Jubilee went white as she realized who the man on the white horse must be, and she dropped to her knees in the dust, her heart pounding in her chest. The King! She had not recognized, and bowed immediately, to the King! She could be beheaded now!

Out the corner of her eye she saw the King's face darken, but the Queen leaned close to him and whispered something in his ear, and he relaxed. "Come near Us," he said, and Jubilee rose, crept closer to the fence, and almost immediately collapsed back to her knees. She would not have been able to help it, her legs were shaking so badly that she wouldn't have been able to stay standing.

"I am most extremely sorry, Your Majesty," she forced the words from her pale lips. "I have not seen you before, and I did not realize who you were. I apologize for my ignorance, Your Majesties, and I beg you to please not have me flogged!" If the King chose to have her flogged it would all be over.

"We are willing to overlook your ignorance," the King said. "However, Our Queen wishes you to attend upon her this evening, as soon as your duties permit."

Jubilee almost stopped breathing. The Queen…if she was one of those with a taste for pretty boys… "Y-y-yes, Your Majesties," she stammered, almost faint with terror and shock. The horses and their riders turned and rode away, and Jubilee fell sobbing into the dust. She did not see the Queen glance back for a last look at her, and even if she had shewould still not have seen the look of pity in the queen'sblue eyes.


	7. The Queen

Chapter 7: The Queen

After the dinner hour there were no more classes. Jubilee had been unable to eat much at dinner; and Logan, sitting at the knights' table, had not so much as glanced at her. Sick with fear, she excused herself as soon as she could, and rushed off to the barracks. There she grabbed a fresh uniform and changed in the privies, taking the time to tighten the wrapping around her chest. Her breasts were hurting, a throbbing ache that was just annoying enough to distract her but not enough to really hurt. She reflected grimly that she had better find an hour alone, and soon, so she could unbind her chest; if she didn't she might permanently injure her breasts.

Then she caught herself and laughed a little hysterically. _It will be a moot point after tonight anyway,_ she thought wildly. _The minute the Queen sees the wrappings she'll know who, and what, I really am. I'll be killed for impersonating a man. The only thing I should be thinking about right now is whether I'll be beheaded or gibbeted! _Neither option of which was especially agreeable to her, but Jubilee decided she'd rather be beheaded than gibbeted. She'd seen a gibbet once; hanging outside a city wall had been an iron cage barely large enough for the person who had once been in it to stand. Her father had explained that the person was stripped and put into the gibbet alive, and the cage hung. The occupant usually expired after three or four days, of thirst and hunger; but the body was left in the cage until the crows had picked the bones clean. Jubilee shuddered to think of her body hanging there.

With these hysterical thoughts swirling around in her head, she returned to the barracks, only to find a maid dressed in fine linen waiting for her. "Her Majesty sent me to escort you to her bower," the maid said, batting her eyelashes. Jubilee thought again, rather hysterically, that the maid would probably be horrified when she found out that she had tried to flirt with another woman!

She followed the maid nervously through a maze of corridors, which started drab and got gradually finer the closer they got to Their Majesties' chambers. Several times her nerve almost failed her, and she would have turned and run if she hadn't been lost after the first set of steps. The maid finally stopped in front of a gilded door, tapped lightly on it, then entered at an almost-inaudible command from the other side. Jubilee sucked in a breath as she saw rich cloth-of-gold hangings, draperies, and furniture around the huge, brightly lit room.

"Ah. Come on in…Lee, is that it? Sir Logan informs me that that is your name." Jubilee crossed the room and crumpled gracelessly to her knees in front of the Queen, pressing her lips to the ring. "Thank you, Mary, you may go." The Queen dismissed the maid. Jubilee saw the astonished glance the maid shot at her, but the Queen remained unperturbed. "Yes, Your Majesty," She bowed and left, closing the door.

Queen Renee got up, slipped softly across the room, and pressed her ear to the door. After a moment, she laughed softly and resumed her seat. "Please, make yourself comfortable, my dear," she said, indicating a fat velvet-covered pillow on the floor at her feet. "And have a cup of wine. Is there anything else on this tray you might wish to sample?" It was almost a royal command. Jubilee took the cup of wine the Queen held out to her, and accepted a roll of white bread. The Queen took the same, and she sipped her cup for a while, looking at Jubilee. Jubilee, disconcerted by that steady gaze, could barely bring her cup to her lips.

The Queen laughed, suddenly. "I am sure you are wondering right about now whether I am the type of tyrant to have you gibbeted. Let me set your mind at rest, dear girl, I shall do no such thing. Your secret is safe with me. Please, relax. And do remove that tight binding around your chest; it's so tight you _must_ be having problems breathing. It is certainly making me uncomfortable just looking at it."

The cup fell from Jubilee's hand. Fortunately, she was sitting on the velvet pillow, and the cup didn't have far to fall to the floor, or it would surely have broken. "I-I don't know what Y-Your Majesty is speaking of," she stammered.

The Queen shook her head and leaned forward. "You walk like a boy. Your hair is cut short like a boy. But a woman knows, my dear. As soon as I saw you begin that charming little dance I knew. You need not pretend with me."

Jubilee sighed. "Who else knows?" she whispered, afraid to look up lest she see disapproval. Or anger, in the Queen's eyes.

The Queen leaned back. "Only I, my dear. Though I think perhaps your mentor may suspect; he was looking rather peculiar. And he knows that my tastes for company in the bed extend only to my husband, and not to little boys. I will not betray you, my dear; but I would like a question answered. Why?"

Jubilee braced herself. "My town lies on the edge of Duke Gilbert's lands," she said tonelessly. "The Duke was unhappy that the town was not tithing properly. He sent armed men to destroy the town. They burned everything. They even attacked the caravan of traveling entertainers and destroyed all of them."

"And you were one of those entertainers. It was not your town at all, you and your family just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I didn't say that, Your Majesty," Jubilee said quietly.

"No, of course not." The tone of the Queen's voice was very matter-of-factly, but Jubilee knew that the Queen had deduced everything. "And so you disguised yourself as a boy, and will seek revenge upon the man who killed your parents."

Jubilee nodded.

The queen leaned forward. "My dear, if you keep that wrapped that tightly all the time you may permanently injure yourself." Jubilee sighed and slid her hands up under her shirt from behind. Her hands found the end where it was tucked against her skin, and she gasped a huge breath of relief as the binding loosened. She carefully unwound it, wrinkling her nose from the smell of the sweat-soaked cloth.

"Here." The Queen rose and rummaged through a drawer, coming up with a band of silk.

Jubilee stared at it. "Your Majesty…"

"It was mine," the Queen said. "When I was a little girl on my father's estates I often disguised myself as a boy and ran off. I put it aside when I married the King, because even the band would not have prevented everyone from knowing who I was. My face was too well known. There is a strip of stretchy boar's sinew in the middle of it, which will keep the breasts flat but not restrict the breathing, or hamper movement." Jubilee took the band of silk numbly, and the Queen turned around. Jubilee suddenly realized she was supposed to put it on, and hastily pulled her tunic off to slip the breast band on. As she pulled her tunic back over her head, the Queen turned back around.

"It is much more comfortable, is it not?" Jubilee took a deep, experimental breath, and nodded. It was. "There will be no lumps to show under the shirts you wear. Now, dear, have you figured out what you will do about your woman's times?"

Jubilee gasped. She had _not_ thought of that.

The Queen smiled and dug into the drawer again. "I am past childbearing age, so I do not need these. Take them. Use them. I daresay you could slip down to the river to wash them at night, when there is no one else around."

"Your Majesty, I cannot thank you enough…" Jubilee started to stammer.

"Do not thank me," The Queen held up a hand. "I only wish I were you. To have the freedom to move about, be free, instead of being confined here to my bower and only allowed to move when I have a gaggle of giggling servants about me…" she sighed. "Let me tell you something, my dear. I bear no love for Duke Gilbert. He tormented me mercilessly when I was a girl; he set my hair on fire once. Should it come to a duel between you and him, my hopes will be on you. Learn your lessons well, so that you can defeat him when it comes down to you and him." She tilted her head. "What is your name?"

"Jubilee."

The Queen smiled. "An unusual name for an unusual girl. My dear, will you accept a gift from me?"

"Your Majesty, you have given me far too much already…"

The Queen rose and went to an ornately carved wooden box on a dressing-table top. She came back with a small object in her hand, and held it out. Jubilee blindly held out a hand, palm up, and something small and cool fell into it. She looked at the object; and saw a small gold ring, set with a tiny ruby chip and engraved with butterflies. "The butterflies are my personal symbol," she said soberly. "It also marks you as someone under my personal protection. Should anyone discover your identity, show the ring as a last resort and tell them you are under the Queen's protection. The only one who can override that protection is the King; and he can only do so after consulting me first."

"But…if I should be discovered…"

"Tell them you are one of my spies. Because you are. Jubilee, there is a traitor in this court, somewhere; the reason this war with Gallas has dragged on for as long as it has is because someone in this court gives him information as to our knights' locations and deployment. Our knights have been slaughtered. It cannot go on. I need to know who has been passing on information from this court to Gallas; and for that I need ears everywhere. Every maid and serving girl in the castle is my spy; but there are places where men can go and women cannot. No one pays attention to squires and pages; you are in a position to overhear much. I need your ears."

Jubilee licked dry lips. "I will be your ears, Your Majesty."

"Good. Then our business here is settled. If anyone asks, say only that I wished some entertainment, and your acrobatics amused me. This way I have an excuse to call you back up here at intervals to tell me anything of use you may have heard."

Jubilee blinked. The Queen had everything covered. She had an excuse for everything, a story for every eventuality. She bowed, still dazed, and when she came out of that daze she found herself following the same maid back down to the trainees' quarters.

The news was all over the trainees' quarters, and Jubilee was deluged with a barrage of questions when she walked back in. Still in shock, she could only sit and stare stupidly at them, until her muddled brain finally kicked in and she truly heard the voices of her training mates asking her questions.

"Lee, what did she look like?" "Are you in trouble?" "What did she call you for?" "Was the King there?" "Did you see the King?" Jubilee finally held up her hand for silence, and said, in a rather strained voice, "The Queen saw me practicing my acrobatics earlier, and she summoned me to perform for her when she got bored this evening. No, I didn't see the King, he's probably got better things to do than watch silly acrobatics. I'm awfully tired," and she sighed and lay back on her bed, fully clothed, and fell asleep.

Logan lay awake in the darkness of his room, staring at the ceiling.

The only reason he'd gone out riding with the King and the Queen that day was because Allan, one of the King's regular knights, had been ill and had asked Logan to substitute for him. Logan had agreed.

Now he wished he hadn't.

Damn that boy! Logan turned over on his side and stared out the window, which he'd unshuttered so he could see the stars in the small slice of sky. Looking at them usually soothed his thoughts so he could fall asleep. Not this time, though.

Lee. Lee was the problem. The boy…why had he been born a boy? Why? Logan groaned to himself. He'd never seen such an appealing sight, that slim body turning somersaults in the air…but why did Lee have to be a boy? He would have made a beautiful girl…a girl Logan could court, and marry. He'd never felt such a strong attraction for anyone else before…but now he was feeling this attraction for his own squire, and to his mind, at least, that was _wrong_. He knew it was done a great deal of the time; many of the squires and knights had a relationship that was far more personal than what their titles entailed, but Logan had never been one for those kinds of relationships. He wanted a girl in his bed, not…

He shuddered and sat up. He had to nip this in the bud, and now, before it got out of hand. He would tell the squiremaster that he had changed his mind, that he was releasing Lee from his service and the boy was free to find another knight. He pulled his boots on, pulled his tunic over his head, and left his room.

He ran into another knight, Julian, on his way down the hall. Logan frowned. Maybe…Julian's squire had made knighthood the year before, and Julian hadn't picked anyone else yet. Maybe he'd take Logan's little pain in the butt? "Hey, Julian," he said aloud, hurrying to catch up with the older knight.

The man turned and saw Logan. Logan smiled back. "I was wonderin'," he said as he fell into step beside Julian. "You don't got a squire right now, do ya?"

Julian stopped, stared at Logan for a minute, and then threw back his head and laughed. "We were wondering when you were going to get around to doing this," he said finally, wiping his streaming eyes. "We knew you didn't have an appetite for pretty boys; we were wagering on how soon it would take you to approach one of us about taking the little guy off your hands."

"Wagering?" Logan's eyes narrowed.

Julian laughed at him again and threw an arm around Logan's shoulders. "We've all noticed how pretty your boy is," he said. "And me, or any one of my friends, would be happy to take him off your hands. Gregory has been wondering when you'd get around to calling the trainee up here in the evenings. But maybe you should ask someone else."

"Ask who?"

"The Queen. You _did_ know that she'd called your squire up to her personal chambers this evening, right? If she's going to make the boy her little toy, perhaps you should ask her before you assign the boy to someone else."

Logan's jaw dropped. He'd heard the King tell Lee to report to the Queen, but the request hadn't sunk into his mind at the moment. Without another word to Julian, he spun and headed for the Queen's room.

He tapped on the door, suddenly hesitant. She might refuse him an audience, it was rather late, after all…but even as he thought that, he heard soft voices from the other side of the door. Queen Renee was up, then; and at least one of her maids. Good. He tapped lightly on the door.

The maid pulled it open a few minutes later. "Yes?" she said, batting her eyelashes at Logan. Logan ignored the silly fluttering, and said, "I would like to speak with the Queen."

"Who is it, Mary?" came Rene's voice from inside the room.

The maid closed the door partially and said, "It's Sir Logan, Your Majesty. He requests a word with you."

"By all means, let him enter." The Queen was sitting on a plush, comfortable chair working with some piece of embroidery when Logan came in. He crossed the room and dropped to one knee quickly, kissing the royal signet on the hand outstretched to him.

Renee smiled. "Fair evening to you, Sir Logan. Although I must confess to some curiosity as to what was so important that it couldn't wait until tomorrow."

Logan flushed as he stood. "I was checkin' with some o' the other knights ta see if any of 'em wanted ta have my boy, Lee," he said. "An' Julian reminded me that you'd asked the boy up here earlier, an' he suggested that I check with ya before I reassigned the boy."

"Lee," The queen dropped her embroidery frame. "You are talking about Lee." Logan nodded.

The Queen's face assumed a neutral expression. "And why would you want to reassign the trainee?"

Logan sighed. "I'm…not sure he's the right one for me, Your Majesty," he said. "I'm not sure the boy wouldn't be happier with someone who might be a little more…dependent…on him."

The Queen turned to look at him. "Sir Logan."

"Yes, Your Majesty?" He shifted position, suddenly disconcerted by her direct gaze.

"Your squire will remain your squire. You will _not_ reassign him to _any_ other knight in this castle, do you understand? _That is a royal order_. If you disobey it, I will have you _flogged_."

Logan's jaw dropped. The Queen was staring at him with a hard, measuring glance, and there was absolutely no mistaking the hard edge to her voice. He was shaken. The Queen was such a gentle soul, and to his knowledge she'd never ordered anyone flogged before. But there was no mistaking the tone of her voice now. She meant what she said, and she would carry it out. "Your Majesty…" he said somewhat weakly. "I don't think you understand…The boy's attractive, in a way I don't, can't, appreciate. Julian is better capable of…"

"Stop right there," the Queen held up a hand. "What makes you think your trainee _wants_ that kind of appreciation?"

Logan was struck speechless for the second time in as many minutes. "Did you think that perhaps your trainee likes you because you don't expect that kind of attention? Let me tell you something, Sir Logan. I invited your trainee up here to amuse me, but I learned some things about him too. He is not who you think he is. If you reassign him to another knight he will die. _You_ are the only person who can partner that young squire. Therefore, I am _ordering_ you _not_ to reassign the boy to anyone else. He has a personal quest that needs to be fulfilled, and only _you_ can keep him safe until that quest is completed."

Logan said tentatively, "Your Majesty…may I ask…?"

"I will not tell you, no," the Queen said. "It is not my secret to tell. And I would suggest that you not ask your squire about it either. He will tell you when the time is right."


	8. Dishounour

Chapter 8: Dishonour

Logan gave the boy a narrow-eyed look as he entered the dining hall for breakfast the next morning. There wasn't anything different about the boy; still the same hair, same face, same smile. Nothing was different. He gave the boy his usual wink and nod when the kid sat down, and then took his own seat at the knights' table.

Julian came in and sat down beside him. "So, Logan, are you going to be reassigning your squire?"

Logan shook his head, the Queen's warning still fresh in his mind. "Naw. Figured I'll keep him for a while longer."

'The Queen told you to keep him?" Julian guessed from the look on Logan's face. "Now why on earth…unless she likes the boy, and she knows you don't, so she figures she'll have the boy all to herself…" Julian nodded. "I bet that's it. Well, looks like our lovely little Queen Renee has a hidden side, doesn't she?" He grinned, and it wasn't pleasant. Logan wanted to smash his fist into the other knight's face; no knight had the right to speak of the Queen that way. But Julian got up from the table at just that moment to speak to a noble passing the table to go to the nobles' tables up by the King's seat, and Logan missed his chance.

When the squires started rising from the table Logan rose too, and caught Lee outside the hall. "I can't talk now, Logan, I have to get to history class," the boy said.

Logan sighed. "Ya got any free time today?"

Lee nodded. "Yes. After the weaponry and equitation classes."

"I'll see ya then."

Jubilee was barely listening to the knight teaching the History class. All she could think about was what Logan had wanted to speak to her about, and whether he had found out, as the Queen had, that she was a girl.

She hurried off to the weaponry classes after that, and Jubilee had to pull her attention to what she was doing. This class, unlike the other classes which came so easily to her, was a struggle to get through. She tried to hold her sword the way Nathan was telling her to, but it didn't feel natural to her, and she was awkward and clumsy. She swung at him, finally, in the practice bouts, and missed him completely. Instead, the heavy wooden practice sword swung in a broad arc and struck the boy next to her, Martin. Martin yelled in surprise and pain, and all activity in the field stopped as the weaponsmaster came striding up. He slapped the flat of his wooden sword against Jubilee's buttocks, hard enough to make her yelp with the pain and blink away tears.

"Being so clumsy with the sword is not a good thing!" the Weaponsmaster roared in anger. "If that were a real sword in your hand just now, you could have cut Martin's head off. Are you that stupid, lad?"

Jubilee saw Nathan's triumphant smirk, and gritted her teeth. "I am sorry, Weaponsmaster. But I cannot hold the sword the way you want us to hold it, my hands do not cover the hilt adequately."

"Show me." Jubilee raised the heavy sword, putting her hands on the grip in the way Nathan had showed her, and the weaponsmaster narrowed his eyes. "I never indicated that this was the way in which a sword should be held, boy!" he roared at her suddenly. "Where did you get such a notion?" Her eyes flicked past the weaponsmaster to Nathan, and the man turned to see who she was looking at. Nathan looked distinctly uncomfortable.

The weaponsmaster took the uncomfortable look for guilt, which it rightly was, and spun, laying the flat of his wooden practice blade against the other boy's rump. This time it was Nathan who yelped. "Boy," the weaponsmaster bellowed. "Are you daft? Just because your father's a nobleman does not give you the right to play around with those of lower rank! Your father will hear of this, I promise you! I will assign another partner to Lee; you will practice by yourself with the practice pell until I can see you are behaving yourself!" He turned to Jubilee. "Come now, lad. Hold the sword in a way that feels most comfortable for you." Jubilee readjusted her grip, and after that, though her arms were still weak, she had better control over the sword, and her movements were less jerky. "Robin!" the Weaponsmaster said finally. "Practice with Lee here." Robin moved over to practice trading blows with Jubilee, and the weaponsmaster stalked over to the corner of the field. The students, though outwardly busy practicing, had their ears strained to hear every angry word that came from his lips.

"Irresponsible! When you are told to assist a new student, it does not mean that you can teach the student the wrong way to handle a sword so that you can appear better! This is not a rigged practice like your tutors provide, where you sample other swordsmen and pick the ones who are worse than you so that you may feel superior! This practice field is for those who must make their living with the sword, not for those who think it idle sport! Put your sword down. I will not teach a spoiled boy who thinks it fun to mislead another for his own amusement." The weaponsmaster yanked the sword from Nathan's hand, used the flat to deliver another blow to the boy's rump, and watched as Nathan scurried ignominiously off back to the trainees' barracks. The other students hurriedly resumed their practice, not wanting to make it seem like they were eavesdropping.

He called a halt to the practice soon afterward, and had the students sit on the ground. "What you saw today was not honourable," he said to them. "That boy is a noble's son. He may never need to pick up a sword in defense of his king and country, but such is not the same for most of you," he said, eyeing the trainees. "You will have to earn your living by your sword. It is not an idle game for you; it is a way of life. But along with the sword comes responsibility. Being a squire, and eventually a knight, means you must always act with honour, dignity, and chivalry. Your job is to champion the weak, the helpless, the abused; to protect the honour of a lady, to preserve the lives of children, women, and the elderly, the crippled, and the sick. Those who need help, you must succor; your code of conduct must be, above all else, honour. Do you all understand that?"

The trainees nodded soberly, although a few of the other nobles' boys looked disgusted. "And even you nobles' sons," the weaponsmaster turned to them. "You should live by honour as well; never allow your own selfish ambitions cause another harm; never allow your desires to come before your King and your country. Your duty, your care, should be for your king and kingdom first, then your lands and your household, your Lady; then, and only then, should you think of yourself." He sighed as he saw one of the boys roll his eyes, but said nothing further. He left, and shortly thereafter the Horsemaster came into the field and told them to retrieve their horses.

They were given shields and practice swords today, and took turns whacking at each other while on horseback. Jubilee found herself facing one of the nobles' boys, Roger. He attacked her with a flurry of blows, smacking her wooden practice shield and buffeting her mercilessly with his sword. She gave as good as she got; and after one clash of blows, when they pulled their horses apart, she saw the malicious look in his eye. It was all the warning she got before the boy shoved his wooden shield under her horse's belly and rammed it into the back of the horse's knee. The animal screamed in pain, and the next moment Jubilee saw the sky and earth tumbling over and over, until she hit the ground, and everything went black.

Logan was approaching the field when he heard the horse scream, and saw the small figure slide off the animal's back and hit the ground. He ran for the fence, slipped under it, and hurried to the fallen boy. The Horsemaster was at the other end of the field, helping two boys turn their mounts and swing, and hadn't seen what happened.

"Lee!" Logan called urgently, patting the boy's cheek. "Lee, wake up! Come on, boy, you didn't hit the ground that hard!" He slapped the pale cheek again. "Come on, boy, wake up!" He turned to the boy Lee had been sparring with, and asked furiously, "What happened?"

"I don't know, the horse just reared," the boy said, plastering a look of wide-eyed innocence on his face as the Horsemaster reined up his mount and knelt beside the fallen boy. Logan looked at the other boy for a long minute, not quite trusting the innocent face, but as Lee groaned and opened his eyes, Logan switched his attention to the kid. "Hey," he said. "Hey, ya okay?"

Jubilee groaned as consciousness returned. Her head throbbed and pounded mercilessly, and she could taste blood in her mouth from biting her tongue on the way down. She turned her head and spat the blood onto the grass beside her head, then carefully levered herself to a sitting position. It was difficult; the field kept whirling in unexpected ways. "I think so," she said finally, blinking. "What happened?"

"I wanted to ask you that," the Horsemaster said. "The horse you have been assigned is usually gentle; he has never thrown anyone. Something must have spooked him this time."

"I…I don't know," Jubilee put a hand to her aching forehead. "I can't remember."

"It is often the case with falls resulting in bumps to the head," the Horsemaster said. "I think it would be best for you to go and lie down for the rest of the afternoon. Robin, please go and fetch the castle healer; he may wish to take a look at the boy's head. Lee, can you make it into the barracks?"

Jubilee tried to stand. The ground kept receding from under her feet, then coming up at her so fast she was afraid she was going to get hit with it; and when she tried to take a step she did indeed hit the ground face first.

Strong arms swept her up and started walking, and Jubilee was about to protest when she realized it was Logan carrying her. She closed her eyes; the whirling ground was making her nauseous, and leaned her head against Logan's shoulder. She felt so safe, so comfortable and protected, in his arms; she wished she could stay there forever. It was a silly wish; she was a squire, she shouldn't feel this way…

She roused a little as Logan put her down on what she felt was her bed. There was a confused babble of voices just past his shoulder, but she closed her eyes to all of that, and kept them closed. She just wanted a little rest, some peace and quiet…

"Wake up," came a firm voice. "Trainee, you must wake up." She moaned, but at the urging of that voice, she opened her eyes. "Better. You must not sleep, after a head wound."

She groaned, but levered herself up to a sitting position as the healer handed her a cup of some foul-smelling brew to drink. She made a face, but drank it down anyway.

It might have tasted vile, but it did help. Her head cleared a little, and the room stopped spinning. "What happened?"

"Ya got thrown from yer horse," Logan told her. "Hit the ground pretty hard. I was on my way ta talk ta ya, an' I saw ya fall."

"Oh." She digested that in silence, then swallowed down the rest of the medicine with a grimace. The healer took the cup from her, looked at her face for a moment, felt the swelling at the back of her head for a moment, then nodded. "Rest would be the best thing for him at this moment," he said dryly. "Sir Logan, if you wish to speak to the boy, you may; but everyone else should leave.He needs quiet now." The healer herded the other trainees and the Horsemaster out of the barracks, then closed the door behind him.

Logan sat watching Lee for a moment. "So ya got the Queen's protection, do ya?" he said quietly.

Jubilee gasped, a hand coming up involuntarily to touch the queen's ring, which hung on a leather thong around her neck. Logan smiled at her. "Don't bother hidin' it, I seen it when I picked ya up. Don't worry, I don't think anyone's gonna know what it is at a casual glance. It's small and plain enough to pass as some love token from some young thing ya might have stringin' along behind ya." Logan sighed. "I haveta make a confession. I was thinkin' maybe ya aren't the right boy fer me, an' I was thinkin' bout tradin' ya off ta one of the other knights."

Jubilee gasped in shock and horror. Trade her off! And maybe the next knight would expect her to perform personal tasks for him, and she would be caught and killed! "No," She whispered, anguished. "No, please don't…"

Logan looked at her oddly. "I suggested as much to the Queen. I figured I'd better ask her, seein' as you was the one she asked ta come up ta her room. Y'know what she said? She ordered me not ta reassign ya to nobody else, an' told me if I do she's gonna have me flogged." He crossed his arms at Lee's shocked gasp. "Now, Her Majesty's never ordered a floggin' fer nobody under her fer as long's I've been here, so ya can appreciate how I felt after hearin' that. She's got plans fer ya, plans she don't want nobody ta interfere with, an' I'm guessin' that's why she give ya her personal ring. I'm also guessin' it don't got nothin' ta do with warmin' her bed. Renee ain't like that. She says yer not who I think ya are. Can ya explain that?"

Jubilee trembled like a leaf in a high wind. "No," she said softly. "Please, Logan. If…if you order me to, I'll tell you…I have to…but it will ruin me completely, and will get me killed. And I have things I have to do before I go to the executioner's."

"Does it have something to do with that revenge?" Jubilee nodded mutely.

Logan took a long, slow look at her, measuring his desire to know against the boy's certainty that if he told Logan what the secret was, he would be executed. Finally he nodded. "Keep yer secrets. But, Lee…if that secret's gonna get us both killed, I expect ya ta tell me before we die, just so I can haunt ya fer eternity." He softened the words with a smile.

Jubilee sat back with a sigh of relief. She'd been so worried that he would order her to tell him, and she knew he was going to be shocked, startled…maybe enough to have her killed then and there. "I promise I'll tell you if it comes to that," she said firmly. And she reached out and grasped Logan's right arm in the forearm clasp of the knights, sealing the bargain.

There was a small alcove in the outer wall of the castle, where a large oak tree stood with its branches shading the interior. Not that there was much space to hide there; the wall had been built around the tree, since the tree couldn't be removed. Under the spreading branches, a figure in a heavy dark cloak waited, and watched the road.

It was almost sunset when there came the sound of footsteps and another figure approached. The black-cloaked figure stepped out into the middle of the road hastily, seized the arm of the man on foot, and wrenched him into the narrow space between the tree and the stone wall. "You fool," came a sibilant hiss from the man in the black cloak. "Walking down the road in the uniform of the King's knights! You stick out like a sore thumb."

"There is nobody about!" came the exasperated whisper form the other man in scarlet and gold clothing. "Everyone else is at dinner. No one will hear us."

"Get on with it," said the man in black. 'What news have you for me?"

"The Queen saw one of the new squires performing acrobatics yesterday, and invited the boy to her bower," the King's Knight said. "She was alone with the boy for nearly a half-hour."

"So? What of it? If the Queen chooses to dally with a petty peasant, what importance is that to me?"

"The squire belongs to Sir Logan," The King's Knight said. "Last night he asked me if I wanted to take the boy. Then this morning, after having spoken to the Queen, he rescinded the offer."

"Would the Queen stoop to using an ignorant squire to do her snooping for her?" The cloaked man asked.

"I doubt it," said the man in red. "I believe that Sir Logan is spying for the Queen, and the squire is the medium by which they communicate."

The cloaked man swore feverishly. "So that must be why the King stopped giving out information over the war table to us nobles. Sir Logan suspects someone of complicity with Gallas and told the Queen, who told the King to keep to his own counsel. Chances are, though, is that Sir Logan knows what the King is planning to do. Damn the man. We'll have to kidnap him, then, and put him to the question."

"Yes," said the man in red. "And I have the perfect way to do it. Logan and I are in the same company of knights. Yesterday our commander told us that we would be heading out to the battlefield when spring begins. Logan thinks of me as a friend; it will be easy to slip up behind him and knock him out with a well-placed blow. After that, it will be easy to bring him to your citadel."

"You shall be paid well for this information, King's Knight," said the man in black.

The King's Knight shook his head. "I want no payment for this. In exchange for delivering Sir Logan to you, I want his squire. The boy is comely."

The man in black laughed. "You have a deal, my friend. After all, what care I for an insignificant squire?"

"Thank you, Duke G—"

The man in black clamped a hand over the King's Knight's mouth. "Hush, you fool! I have told you, do not speak my name!"

The man in red bowed. "My regrets, my lord. With your leave, I shall go now, since my message is delivered and I shall be missed if I am away too long. As will you."

"I shall be all right. Go!" The man in red disappeared, and the cloaked man rubbed his hands in delight. King Gallas might grant him even larger, more extensive lands once he was king of the two lands.

A squire and a King's knight would be a small price to pay for more land, more wealth, and the conqueror's favor. As for this fool…let him dally with the squire. Soon enough he would learn the price of dishonouring his Knight's Vows for his foolish ambitions.


	9. Spying

Chapter 9: Spying

The days settled into a routine for Jubilee. She woke up at dawn, then had a half hour to get her bed made neatly and have the Squiremaster inspect it all to make sure it was neat (she had a distinct advantage here; being accustomed to cleaning up after herself and her parents, and with a woman's innate sense of neatness, she passed inspection more often than not.) She cleaned her teeth, washed her face, then ran off to the dining hall for breakfast with the other boys. After breakfast she had her History class, then weaponry and equitation classes, and then a free hour before the noon meal was served. In the afternoon she had reading/writing/ figuring classes, which she considered a waste of time since she already knew how to do it all, but that was what was on her schedule, and all the boys, regardless of competency levels, were required to take the class. Afterwards, they were free for an hour, and then supper in the great hall. Then they were free to do what they wished for an hour before reporting back to the trainees' barracks for the night.

She usually spent the first free hour, the morning hour, working on her sword skills; the second hour, in the afternoon, she spent practicing her acrobatics. She had a sizable audience now; word had gotten around after that first day, and she now had the attention of the stable lads and any of the Palace staff who might happen to be passing by. Even some nobles had heard of it, and came to watch. The evening hour would be different; usually she spent it in the Palace library, devouring the stories in the illuminated manuscripts, and once a week she went up to the Queen's rooms. She didn't hear a lot of talk around her, so she and the Queen would chat about little things; palace gossip, servants' and nobles' squabbles, and Jubilee would amuse the Queen with stories of things that happened when she was traveling in the caravan with her parents. Jubilee slowly came to realize why the Queen had spies; partly because of the situation in court, and partly because the Queen was so shuttered and sheltered that any news of the doings beyond her bower was welcome. There were things that she would not be told because they weren't 'seemly' for a Queen to hear; but Jubilee discovered that the Queen had sharp wit and a lively sense of humour, and neither could be exercised while she was kept under wraps by the King and her maids.

The only stumbling block to her happiness with her current life was her continuing need for secrecy with her training mates and the constant teasing she received, the constant harassment by the noble's sons, and her effort to gather information useful to the Queen.

"Hey!" The banging on the door of the privy got more insistent. "Lee, come on, we're all boys, it's not going to kill you if we see you without a shirt on once in a while!"

_Oh, yes, it will,_ Jubilee thought as she scrambled into her uniform. _If you only knew!_ She yanked her tunic over her head, reminding herself to ask Francis for another tunic; this one was getting frayed at the edges. "I'll be out in a minute!" she hollered back at Robin, who was pounding on the door. As soon as she stepped out, her nightclothes in her hand, Robin vanished inside the privy. He didn't even bother to close the door, much to the delight of two of the kitchen maids, who were standing by the well with cloths for the boys to dry their faces with after they washed up. One, a silly blonde with big blue eyes and long blond braids, batted her eyelashes at Jubilee as she came up to the well and splashed her face. Jubilee carefully avoided looking at her, as the girl's adoring look made her distinctly uncomfortable; splashed water on her face, dried quickly, and hurried off to the dining hall.

She was in the hallway outside the door, standing in the middle of the crowd of people waiting to enter, when a foot connected with her shin so hard she gasped and fell forward. Her hands, wildly pinwheeling to keep her balance, grabbed hold of something to keep her upright, and as luck would have it, she grabbed onto the gorgeous purple velvet cloak of the nobleman in front of her. The man turned irritably. "Watch where you're going, you clumsy little boy!" the man snapped before he turned back around. Jubilee mumbled an apology, face flaming, as she stood on one leg and rubbed her bruised shin. Wondering what she had tripped over, she looked down. There was nothing there; but as she raised her eyes, she saw Nathan standing a little over on her left, and her face flushed.

Nathan had been ejected from their weaponry class by the Weaponsmaster, but after a week, he had returned, and his father had been in tow. The weaponsmaster had spent a great deal of time talking to Nathan's father, the Earl of Middlesex, in low but heated tones; but the result was still the same. The Weaponsmaster had been told to take the boy back in his class, but to keep Nathan from associating with the 'commoners'; and he had looked at Jubilee as he said it. Jubilee had to pretend she was concentrating on the sword drills very hard indeed; it took all her self-control not to go over there and tell the nobleman what Nathan had truly been like. After that, Nathan and the other nobly-born boys in the class had practiced with each other, and the pages and trainees practiced among themselves.

_The Earl should have told his son not to mingle with the commoners, _Jubilee thought with a grimace as the knot of people in front of the hall doors started to file into the hall. _As if we would 'mingle'_ _with him voluntarily_! Nathan was no particular favorite with the other trainees, the pages, or the instructors. And Jubilee hated him with a passion. He did everything he could to make her life miserable; for some reason, he'd focused on her as the object of his hatred. She could feel his eyes boring into her back as she took her usual seat as close to the knights' table as possible, being careful not to tangle her chair with the chairs of the two men in King's Knight uniforms, and grabbed a plate. She dug her fork in and was about to eat when her ears suddenly picked up a snippet of conversation. A man, wearing a cloak of superb, expensive black velvet bordered with gold trim, stopped and spoke to the man directly behind Jubilee, but their voices were so low she could barely hear what they were saying.

"…urge the King to be more forthcoming with his plans for the coming battle in the meeting tonight," the man in black said to the knight in red. "Especially with information given to the nobles. He tells you where to go…we nobles don't know where he will…next…and King Gallas is becoming impatient…wants information…" The man in black dropped his voice below the level of Jubilee's ability to hear, and Jubilee forced herself to eat unconcernedly, as if she had not just heard them talking. Inside, her brain was whirling frantically. Out the corner of her eye, she saw Queen Renee sitting in her throne on the dais, sipping from her goblet and laughing at something the King was saying. She had to get word to her, and soon. Definitely before this meeting tonight between the King, the nobles, and the knights. If the King let slip any of his plans, King Gallas might learn of them through this man in the black cloak and the red-uniformed informer. She turned her head just the barest bit, trying to see the faces of the two men talking, but they were too far behind her, and she didn't dare risk being caught eavesdropping. What might these two men do to her if they knew she'd heard them?

She got up as soon as she was released from the table, and found a bit of dusty drapery to hide in as she waited for the knights, particularly Logan, to rise from the table. She was going to be late for History, but she didn't care; she had to tell Logan, and Logan would find a way to get word to the Queen, or maybe even the King directly.

Finally she spotted him, leaving the dining hall by the far door, and she sprinted down to where he was. He frowned hard at her as she caught his arm. "Class started a while ago," he scolded her. "Yer gonna get in trouble."

"I know. I don't care, this is more important. Listen. The King's going to have a meeting with all the knights and nobles and everybody tonight, right?"

Logan nodded warily, staring at her, "How'd ya…"

She almost danced with impatience. "I overheard two people, a knight and a noble with a black cloak, talking while I was eating. The man in black is spying for Gallas; he told the knight to tell the king to tell _everybody_ his plans, so he could tell Gallas. Can you tell the Queen to tell His Majesty that he shouldn't say anything about his plans?"

Logan stared at Lee's face, and decided the kid was in earnest. "Yeah, I'll tell her. Now go, 'fore ya get in even more trouble'n ya already are in!" The boy turned and ran off down the hall, and Logan looked after him ruefully. The kid might be young, but he did have his priorities straight.

Logan tapped on the door to Their Majesties' receiving room, and opened the door when a quiet voice bade him enter. There were two knights conversing with the king; Julian, and another knight Logan knew only vaguely, and not by name. He eyed the two men in red uniforms suspiciously; had one of them been the one Lee overheard plotting against the king? He searched his memory, trying to remember which of the two men had been sitting closest to the trainees' table, but he couldn't remember. Frowning, he approached the Queen, went to one knee, and kissed her extended hand. "May I have a word with ya, Yer Majesty?" he said.

Renee studied him. "Is it important, Sir Logan?" she asked. Meaning, 'is it something that can't be said in front of other ears?'

Logan nodded. "Yes, Yer Majesty."

She was about to rise from her chair and lead him into an antechamber when the King called, "Stay, my Lady. Sir Logan, whatever you wish to say can be said in front of Us. There are no secrets among all here." Logan paused. He started to tell the King everything Lee had said, when he saw the other knight's eyes. They were fixed on him in a coldly speculative look. Logan's instincts rose screaming to the surface.

"I believe this is best left ta as few ears as possible, Your Majesty." He bowed low, cursing to himself as he did. He had tried to be respectful, but there was always a chance that Julian or the strange knight might take it as insult. Julian wouldn't make an issue of it, but the other man…

The king studied Logan carefully, and for so long that Logan started to sweat a little. Finally, the King's eyes flicked to the two knights and said, "You may leave." Julian and the strange knight left, closing the door behind them.

"Now," King Richard said, "Say what you have come to say, Sir Logan, and it had better be as important as you have implied." His voice was hard. Logan gritted his teeth. If he received a flogging because of Lee's information, he'd take it out on the boy's hide himself… "The meetin' this evenin', between Yer Majesties an' the nobility," he began abruptly. "Yer Majesty must not go inta much detail. There is a spy in the castle."

The King raised an eyebrow, and his voice got colder. "Everyone in my castle has sworn fealty to me, Sir Logan. They would not dishonour themselves so." The displeasure was palpable in his voice. "You dishounour yourself by intimating that someone does not take their vows seriously. Have you proof to back up your implications?"

Logan gritted his teeth. When he got hold of Lee…the boy was the Queen's spy, not the King's, and he had no right to drag Logan into this…! "No, Yer Majesty. I heard a snippet o' conversation only, between two men whose faces I couldn't see."

The King's face darkened, but Renee laid a hand on his arm. "Peace, my husband. Sir Logan, heard you this conversation with your own two ears? Truth."

Slowly, Logan shook his head. The King's face darkened further, but Renee's hand on his arm kept him quiet. "It was a much younger pair of ears, was it not? A pair of ears belonging to a body who could not escape duty to bring me this news himself." Logan nodded. The Queen sat back, and turned to the King. "My Lord, I have long suspected that Gallas has a spy in the court. He seemed to know in advance where our knights would be sent, and this has cost us many good men last spring. In an effort to ferret out the traitor, I have encouraged the boys and women of the palace to use their ears in my service. Logan's squire is one such spy. The boy cannot escape his responsibility, but he has informed his knight and asked Sir Logan to bring this news to us."

The King's face assumed a thoughtful expression. "I had wondered about the heavy casualties myself," he said. "Perhaps you are right, my dear. This boy you speak of, Sir Logan's squire; how reliable is he?"

Renee smiled. "I know the squire's secret, My Lord. He would not betray us while I have the means to destroy him."

"He has a secret?" The King's face clouded.

Renee smiled at him. "It is of no great importance to any but himself," she said to the King. "But it means a great deal to the boy."

The King turned to Logan. "Your squire. What secret does he hold?"

"I do not know, Your Majesty," Logan said respectfully. "But the boy assures me that it has nothin' ta do with the current state o' affairs between the two lands, an' I believe him. He's all o' thirteen, at the most, Your Majesty; an' a kid that young isn't capable o' causin' any real political trouble."

The King nodded. "Very well, then. My counsel shall remain my own. Thank you for bringing me this information; I hope to meet this squire after the present unrest is concluded. The conversation will be…interesting."

Jubilee arrived at her History class out of breath and panting. Sir Handel was not happy with her lateness, and as punishment she was told to spend her free hours that day cleaning and polishing every bit of tack in the trainees' stables. Ignoring Nathan's snicker, Jubilee set herself to work, although her mind was still focused on what she had heard, and not on the lesson. She had to pay slightly more attention in weaponry and equitation; they had begun archery in weaponry, and she had to pay attention. And controlling her horse in front of the Horsemaster was sufficiently challenging to draw her mind away from its current train of thought.

However, when she sat down with cleaning rags and leather soap during her free hour, her worries increased. Her hands rubbed mechanically at the leather while her mind fretted about the conversation. Suppose Logan forgot? What if Her Majesty didn't believe him? What if he went to the King instead, and the King didn't believe him? Would Logan get a flogging for spreading rumours? The King did such things infrequently, but in the month since Jubilee had been at the castle, she had seen two servants flogged in the courtyard; the household steward, for 'misplacing' some money in the household accounts (Jubilee knew where that money had gone; the man's own debts were many, and his salary was inadequate to cover his excesses; she didn't feel sorry for him at all) and one of the housemaids, who had been accused of stealing a piece of the Queen's jewelry (Jubilee knew the woman had stolen more than that one piece; she had no pity for the woman at all, although the flogging had been extremely difficult to watch, and hear. She had found the place where the woman had hidden the two gold rings and returned them to Queen Renee privately, later.)

The door to the stable opened, and she looked around, then dropped the tack and the cleaning cloth. "Logan!" She raced down the rows of empty stalls to him, and skidded to a stop bare inches from him. "Did the Queen get the message? Did she believe you?"

Logan pushed Jubilee onto a nearby bench. "Yes, I got the message ta Their Majesties. Yes, the King believed me…_after_ Renee revealed that ya were one o' her spies. The King said he's gonna have a talk with ya when the current political unrest is concluded."

Jubilee went pale. "The talk should be…interesting," she said, struggling to find a polite way to describe the upcoming talk.

Logan grinned. "His Majesty said much the same thing," he said, sitting on the bench beside Jubilee and hefting the saddle and bridle he was carrying into his lap. He tweaked her nose. "An' you and I are gonna have a talk right now. Ya put me in a rather awkward position. The Queen asked ya ta be her spy, not me! Why'd ya haveta drag me inta it?"

Jubilee bit her lip, and laced her fingers together, absently rubbing the callus she'd been developing on the inside of her thumb from handling the swords. "They told us in History class how many knights were lost this spring," she said, her throat tight. "I don't want that to happen to anyone else. If Gallas doesn't know where we'll be in the spring, there's more chance that we'll survive the front line battles this spring."

"'We' meanin' you an' me?"

Jubilee nodded mutely.

"Do ya really care about me that much?" Logan asked curiously. "'Cause look, kid, I ain't the kind of man Julian is, the kind who likes boys around. I can't feel like that fer ya…"

"No!" Jubilee was torn between embarrassment and horror that that was the way he'd interpreted her concern. "No, I…you saved my life, is all. I don't know what I'd have done if you hadn't picked me up that night at Mistress Leeds's inn." She turned pink. "I'm not like Phillip, I don't like…"

Logan grinned, wondering if it was possible for the boy's skin to get any redder. "'S'okay," he said to the kid. "I understand. But," he said, "that don't excuse ya f'r getting' me in hot water. I want ya ta take my tack," and he heaved his horse's saddle and bridle into her lap, "And clean it. Want ya ta bring it up ta my room this evenin' when yer done. Let's see how well ya learned how ta care fer this stuff."

Jubilee smiled as she looked at the saddle. She couldn't tell him she already knew how to take care of tack; she'd had to take care of the harnesses her parents used in their trick riding, so none of this was a surprise to her. So instead she nodded and dropped her eyes to the saddle, continuing with her cleaning as Logan left.


	10. Visitation

Chapter 10: Visitation

Jubilee grabbed Logan's saddle and bridle out from under her bed as she heard the others heading down to the river to bathe. She couldn't participate in that particular activity; even if she wasn't a girl, Logan had wanted her to bring his tack back this evening, and he was probably waiting for it right now.

She'd taken particular pains to clean his things. The leather of the saddle and bridle was good, and supple, but whoever had cleaned it last had been in a hurry or hadn't been particularly careful. Jubilee had spent an entire hour not only cleaning it, but also oiling it so that the leather was as soft and supple as the harnesses her parents used on their trick horses. When she was finished, the tack looked brand new. She was proud of her work, and she was certain that Logan would be happy with it too.

She hefted the saddle onto her shoulder and carried it down the trainee's hall until she reached the courtyard in the middle of the castle. Taking the steps carefully so she wouldn't trip and dirty the just-cleaned tack, she let her feet carry her where she was supposed to go.

Because of his status as a King's Knight, which elevated him a level above the ordinary knights, Logan had quarters in the royal wing. Jubilee actually found that she had to pass the Queen's suite on her way to Logan's rooms. She had taken to stopping in Logan's room after she went to see the queen; he'd never complained, just invited her in. And she'd spend some time telling him about how things stood with the training and what she'd learned.

She got to the top of the stairs, turned left, and mounted another short flight. She was almost at the top when a snicker interrupted her. Looking at the top of the stairs, she saw Nathan and his friends Roger and Stephen standing there. As their fathers were nobles and intimates of the King, they had suites in this wing too.

"Well, well, look at what we have here," Nathan snickered. "The little boy who would be knight." He smiled. "Is that heavy, little boy? Want us to lighten the load for you?" His friends took that as a sign, and descended the steps to intercept Jubilee. Roger grabbed the saddle, and Stephen on the other side grabbed for the tack.

Jubilee grabbed the leather and kept them from taking it from her all the way. "The tack is Sir Logan's, he asked me to bring it up when I was done cleaning it," she said angrily, pulling it out of the boys' reach. "He's waiting for me now."

"Oh, I'll bet he's waiting, most anxiously!" Nathan snickered. "But not for his tack, eh? He's waiting for you." His tone of voice left no doubt in Jubilee's mind of what he was talking about.

"He's waiting for his tack!" she cried indignantly. "Let me pass!"

"I don't think so," Nathan said nastily. "Not till you pay our toll. Say, "Please, my Lord Nathan, may I pass'…and I _might_ let you."

Jubilee stared at him in disbelief. "As if I would beg you for anything," she said angrily. "Get out of my way."

"I could, of course, ask my father to have you flogged," Nathan said nastily. "Shall I try that?"

Jubilee stared at him. "You wouldn't," she said in disbelief.

Nathan smiled smugly. "Try me."

She shook her head. "I've wasted enough time on you," she muttered. And tried to push past Stephen and Roger.

They let her go, and made no moves until she had gained the top of the stairs. Then Nathan grabbed the edge of the saddle, yanking backward. Jubilee almost fell over as he pulled it from her shoulder and dropped it on the floor.

She turned on him, eyes flashing. "You bully!" she snapped. "Give that back!" She bent to pick up the saddle.

A shove from behind sent her sprawling. Before she could get up, a foot caught her in the ribs, and she gasped in pain, turning over and reflexively curling over on her side. Another foot in the midsection flattened her out, and then a fist to her face made her howl in pain. Tears started to her eyes, blurring her vision, and she didn't see Nathan draw his foot back.

The kick caught her right between her thighs. She screamed with the pain, tears spilling from her eyes, as white-hot agony erupted between her legs. Falling her knees and balling her fists between her thighs, she sobbed helplessly.

"What's going on!" came an astonished voice, and suddenly the boys were gone. Jubilee heard their pounding footsteps recede, but she was in too much pain to lift her head. There was a gasp, and then hands were touching her. Jubilee gasped in fear and tried to lash out.

"Here, here, it's just me, Mary," said a female voice, and Jubilee's mind registered that voice. Mary. Queen Renee's personal maid. Jubilee squeezed her eyes shut. Mary didn't know who 'Lee' really was. As much as Jubilee wanted to dissolve in tears, she couldn't. Not here, not now. Boys didn't cry.

Mary left Jubilee's side, hurrying off a short way, and Jubilee used the short interval to try and pull herself together. In moments, there was another set of footsteps, and another pair of hands were touching her. "I'm all right, I'm all right," she tried to gasp, struggling to her feet, but the words died on her lips as she saw Queen Renee's face.

Renee stared, appalled, at the bruised face of the young girl in front of her. She reminded herself, forcibly, not to call Jubilee's name in surprise in front of her maid, and instead said, "Mary, pick up the tack and bring it to my suite." She slipped an arm under Jubilee's shoulders and helped her into her room. "What happened?"

Jubilee sank down onto the padded chair Renee offered her and gasped out through gritted teeth, "Nathan…and Stephen, and Roger…they caught me at the top of the stairs, they beat me…" she curled over and clenched her thighs together.

Renee sighed. "Mary, please go and check the hall." As soon as the maid left, she explored Jubilee's groin with sensitive fingers. "Does anything hurt?" she asked gently, softly.

"Just…after they first kicked me there," Jubilee gasped. "The worst of the pain's going off." And was quickly being replaced by pain from the bruise over her left eye.

Renee sighed. "I can't call a physician to look at your body; they'll be able to tell immediately that you're not a boy. Where were you going?"

"Logan wanted me to clean his tack and bring it up after supper," Jubilee gasped.

Renee stood quickly. "I'll call him them"

"NO!" Jubilee half-rose from the chair with a soft cry. "He can't know! Please…don't tell him…"

Renee sighed and came back. "You'll have to tell him eventually, child," she said gently.

Jubilee's eyes filled with tears she tried to blink away. "I don't want to," she said softly.

Renee looked at her. "Being in love with someone isn't easy, my dear, but not acknowledging it is worse," she said. "Eventually you'll have to tell him. Give him a chance to love you back, at least."

"I'm not in love with him," Jubilee mumbled stubbornly.

Renee smiled to herself. The girl could deny it all she wanted to, but she'd seen the look in the girl's eyes in the evenings when she spoke of her mentor. She was in love; Renee was certain of it. And after seeing Sir Logan's face when they had spoken of his squire earlier, Renee wasn't entirely sure that Logan didn't care deeply about his squire as well. He didn't know Lee was a girl, of course, but Renee would eat her own crown if Logan didn't wish that 'Lee' had been born a girl!

The door opened, and Renee saw Mary come in. "Mary, Lee was looking for his knight," she said. "Would you please bring Sir Logan here?"

Jubilee started out of her chair, but Renee pushed her back down. "I won't tell him who you are," she said. "But he'll want to know what happened, and he's the only one who can call those boys out for injuring you."

Logan was sitting on a chair polishing his sword and dagger when there came a knock at his door. "Come on in," he said, not bothering to turn around. He was expecting Lee, so it was a surprise when a soft feminine voice intruded on his thoughts. "Sir Logan"

He spun. A female servant stood in the doorway; a quick look at her sleeve showed her wearing the colors of the Queen. "What happened ta the queen?" he gasped, standing and hefting his sword.

"Oh, nothing, nothing," the maid said, and he relaxed. "It's not the Queen, Sir Logan, I found your squire in the hallway after he'd been beaten by a couple of the nobles' boys. He's in the Queen's suite right now" Logan didn't wait to hear the rest of the maid's words. He raced down the hall to Renee's suite.

Renee raised an eyebrow as she heard pounding footsteps, and a second later Sir Logan appeared in the doorway. He acknowledged her presence with the barest hint of a nod, and rushed past her to where Jubilee was sitting on the chair. "Ya okay, kid?"

Jubilee looked up at him, fighting tears. She was so relieved to see him, he'd make it all better, and she was _not_ in love with him! No matter what Renee said!

Logan stared down at Lee, his eyes taking in the black eye, the bruised cheek, and the small drop of blood making its way over the swollen lip, and clenched his fists. He had to fight to keep his voice steady as he knelt beside the chair. "Who did this?"

The lower lip trembled, but the boy didn't cry. Logan had to give him points for that; Lee was gutsy. "Nathan, and Roger, and Stephen," the boy said. "I cleaned your tack and got it all nice, and they caught me at the top of the stairs and they took it away and threw it on the floor…and then they started kicking me and hitting me…" Logan cupped the small chin in his hand, his heart aching as he thought of the number of times he'd experienced beatings from the upper-class nobles in his class. But that was different; he'd been seventeen, and well able to handle it. This boy was so much younger, so much smaller…and that bruise looked _so_ nasty… The kid would be hurting in the morning. But at least no bones had been broken, nothing permanently damaged. He stood.

"Thank ya, Yer Majesty," he said, bowing over Renee's hand. "I'll take care o' the kid from here." He turned to Lee. "Come on now, boy. Let's go ta my room."

Lee got up off the chair, bent over, and gathered the saddle and bridle in his arms. Logan bit his lip at the look of determination, and his admiration for the boy went up another notch. He watched the boy leave the room, nodded once, briefly, to Renee, and then took the saddle from the lad as they left the Queen's suite. Neither of them saw the amused smile on the Queen's lips.

Logan dropped the saddle in the corner, followed shortly by the bridle, as he steered the boy toward the second bed in the room, the one that Collan, his previous squire, and occupied a year ago. The boy sat on the edge of the cot, and Logan used a handkerchief to wipe the smudges of dirt and blood away. "Ya sure ya okay?" he asked gently. The boy nodded.

Logan sighed. "Good. Ya up ta takin' a walk with me?"

Lee looked up. "Where?"

"We're gonna have ourselves a stroll over ta them arrogant nobles' rooms, an' make them boys apologize ta ya," Logan said grimly.

"No!" Jubilee said, in alarm. "Don't do that!"

Logan frowned. "Why not?" he dabbed at the corner of the boy's mouth again.

"'Cause….half the boys think I'm a sissy…and if you go and step in for me, then they'll just think I'm sissy all over again. I don't want that."

Logan grinned in spite of himself. "Tough, ain't ya?' he sobered. "All right. Get on with ya, then. Back ta the barracks, 'fore they lock the doors. An' I won't say anythin' ta them spoiled brats if ya don't want me to."

"I don't," Lee insisted. Logan laughed, ruffled the boy's dark hair, and watched as the kid disappeared out the door and down the halls. He waited a few seconds, then poked his head out the door. Lee was heading down the stairs.

He followed the boy down the stairs, then down the second flight, and waited until he saw the boy disappear through the outer door to the trainees' barracks before retracing his steps to his suite. Thankfully, it hadn't been as bad as some of the beatings he'd gotten when he was a trainee. One of the boys...Thomas, his name had been—had had his two bullyboys hold Logan while Thom had beaten him all over with a heavy wooden practice sword. Logan remembered how furious his mentor, Sir Engel, had been…and how Logan had begged him not to call the boys' fathers out for injuring his squire. Logan grinned. Full circle. Maybe those priests had the right of it after all.

He went to the corner, reached for the saddle and bridle. They had felt different, somehow, when he'd taken them from the boy's hand; he hadn't paid much attention to the difference at the time, but now he wanted to see what the boy had done to his gear.

He almost didn't recognize his own saddle when he looked at it. The leather had been worked to a flexible suppleness he'd never felt; when he'd bought the saddle it was fairly inexpensive, made of stiff, rough leather. It was all the newly knighted Logan could afford at the time. He'd never thought that the rough leather could be transformed into good leather just with a bit of work; if he'd known he'd have spent more time working on it! The leather was butter-soft now, supple, and would conform to his legs much easier than it ever had before. And his horse would surely appreciate it! Why, his saddle looked almost as good as the King's, now; Logan would be the envy of all the other knights.

He grabbed the bridle, looked it over. The red and gold fittings across the brow band and noseband gleamed as bright as they had when he'd first gotten it; the enamelwork had been polished, as had the buckles. The leather straps, stiff with his horse's sweat, was supple and malleable; and the hard leather edge to the reins, the edge that had always irritated the inner webbing of his hand between his thumb and index finger, was gone. Completely. Logan flexed it, rolled it; it felt like it was made of cloth, not leather. He smiled. _Damn, that boy's good_!

He put the tack aside, in the corner on the floor, and lay back on his bed. He was glad he'd kept the squire; imagine what his gear would be like when they were out in the field! True, Lee wouldn't always have the luxury of enough time to work the leather like this, but when he did get the time…!

It was too bad the boy would make knighthood eventually and go his separate way, Logan mused to himself. He liked the boy. Liked him a lot. When the Queen's maid had told him something happened to the boy, his heart almost stopped. He'd never imagined that he could care about a boy so much; but there was something about Lee. Logan didn't know what it was, couldn't put his finger on it; but he cared more for Lee than he had about Collan, and he'd known Collan longer! What _was_ it about this boy?

Maybe…maybe he and Julian had more in common? Logan remembered picking the boy up after the fall from the horse. Holding Lee…it had felt…_right_, somehow. Like Lee belonged there. He'd had a funny feeling that he'd done this before, and with the same kid. He'd felt something…more of an impression than a memory, though he could swear that memory was involved, too. An impression of a small body, snuggled trustingly up against him, looking into his eyes, calling his name in tones of trust and loyalty…Logan had felt his body and soul respond to the soul in that small boy's body, in a way it never responded to anyone, anything else, before. It was odd, it was completely irrational, but it was the way he felt. It made no sense. None whatsoever.

It was too damn bad that the kid was a boy. Logan buried his head in his pillow, fighting the urge to shout in frustration. He'd never wanted a little boy. Never! Why the hell couldn't the kid be a girl? A girl like Lee…Logan could respect a girl like that. He could marry a girl like that. Hell, he could _love_ a girl like that. And the kid had to be a boy. Oh, the unfairness of it!

With a groan of frustration, he buried his head back in his pillow.

He awoke some time later, to see the moonlight streaming into his room from the open window. He sat up, intending to get up and close the window, when _something_ began to coalesce in the bright beam of light streaming across the floor. He stared as a tall woman with flowing hair materialized in that beam of light. Hair so pale that it looked silver in the moonlight flowed around a sculpted, high-cheekboned face; and the figure was _tall_.

"Who..." he tried to say, but no sound came from his throat.

The figure smiled, and the eyes pinned him. Those eyes were white, lacking pupil or iris, but he had no doubt that those eyes were looking at him, a gaze so intense that he froze, unable to move. And in that moment, he knew who his visitor was. "Goddess," he choked out. The figure looked like all the statues he'd ever seen of the Great Goddess. Not that he'd seen many. Druids, the pagans that practiced the ancient religions and who the Christians called 'witches' were few and far between. The inquisition that had purged the land of their presence had destroyed as many of those images of the Goddess as they had destroyed Her worshippers.

The Goddess smiled, and his heart almost stopped at the beauty, the radiance of that smile. "_Fear_ _not_," the voice shot through him, pierced his mind and heart like an arrow. "_I shall not hurt you. I came_ _with a message. What you wish for is before you. Let not your anger overrule your heart, or the circle will_ _be broken, and you shall not have that which you long for now, or in your next life. Or the one after that_." The voice hinted at a dire fate, and he felt a sudden sickening lurch somewhere near his heart; loneliness, emptiness, a hunger that would never be satisfied…and suddenly, in the Goddess's cupped hands he saw a small figure with black hair and blue eyes, wearing an odd sleeved cloak dyed an impossible shade of yellow. The figure dissolved almost as soon as he looked at it, and he blinked. He hadn't seen it clearly, but the face had looked like…looked like…

Logan sat bolt upright in bed, gasping as though he'd just run a mile. He looked around his room. Everything was where he'd left it; the moon shone serenely through the open shutters, and the dust on the floor hadn't been disturbed at all. He got up and went to the window, pushing the shutters closed with a muttered curse, and flopped back down on his bed. He was asleep in minutes. When he woke the next morning the memory of the little yellow figure was forgotten, but a snippet of the words remained.

_Let not your anger override your heart, or you shall not have that which you long for_…


	11. Promotion

Chapter 11: Promotion

As if that incident were a precursor of things to come, things started to go wrong.

First was the weather. The autumn had been good thus far, the air warm with just a hint of coolness at night. The morning after Jubilee had been beaten, she woke to a stiff, aching body, cold air in the barracks, and frost on the ground. She ran for the privies, her breath forming silvery clouds in the chilly air, and changed as quickly as she could. She was still shivering as she ran for the dining hall with the other boys; and the heat from the great fireplace in the hall was a welcome respite from the cold in the trainees' barracks.

She looked for Logan, as she always did, as soon as she got seated. His accustomed seat was empty, and she was almost halfway through her meal before he came in. He didn't give her his usual wink and head for his seat; instead he stopped at her table. "Ya did a good job with the tack, kid," he said to her, the twinkle in his eye softening his usual gruffness. "Here. Thought ya might get a little cold out there in the mornin's, an' I know ya don't got a coat." He handed her a leather jerkin lined with sheep's fleece. She took it, amazed at his thoughtfulness, and smiled up at him in gratitude. Her smile lit up her face in a way she wasn't aware of, and Logan felt a peculiar wrenching in his heart. He smiled one last time and hurried to his seat at the knights' table.

Sir Francis met her in the hallway exiting the dining hall, and she saw the shocked look on his face as he saw the bruises. "Has the Healer seen them bruises, trainee?" he asked her.

Jubilee dropped her eyes. "They're just bruises, Squiremaster," she said, trying to make light of it all. Actually, she was finding it hard to move; her side ached abominably, and her loins were still on fire from the hard kick of the day before. Riding today was going to be extremely uncomfortable; and what was worse, Nathan would see her stiffness and know it was from his beating the night before. But she couldn't go to the castle healer for a pain-easing brew; the healer would want to look her over completely, and her secret would be discovered. When she'd chosen to disguise herself as a boy, she hadn't expected anything like this to happen, although, looking back, she could see that she should have expected it.

Sir Francis looked shrewdly at the little boy in front of him. The lad was in more pain than he was letting on; he could tell by the set of the shoulders, the slightly-hunched position, the stiff walk. Still, he couldn't force the lad to see the healer, and he also knew that if it were serious, Logan would have sent the boy to the healer himself. Logan was one of the more considerate knights in court; he didn't treat his squires like they were personal servants, people who were there only for his convenience. Francis remembered the previous winter, when Collan had taken ill with the coughing sickness; Logan had cared for himself _and_ the squire for a week while the boy lay ill in Logan's own room. "As you say, then," he sighed, shrugging his shoulders. "I need to talk to you. Your teachers say you're acquainted with the lessons in writing and reading and figuring; and I saw the tack you cleaned for Logan. You know pretty much everything you need to know about being a squire, and taking care of Sir Logan. The Horsemaster says you're well advanced in the riding lessons; you've even got tricks he says he's never seen before. You're only showing problems with the weaponry lessons, and those only requiring use of a sword. Which is to be expected, of course; you're not grown into your full strength. The Armsmaster tells me you're accurate with a moving target at a hundred paces and more with your archery. In everything but swordwork, you're well suited to an advancement, even as young as you are. What say you to an early promotion as squire?"

Jubilee's mouth fell open, and she stared at the Squiremaster with wide eyes. "Really?"

Francis smiled at the look of artless surprise in the lad's eyes. "Really. Normally we'd wait until the end of the winter, but Sir Logan's going to be one of the ones going out on the battlefield with the King in spring, and he needs to have a fully-trained squire ready by then. I normally wouldn't advocate sending a lad as young as you out there, but, well, desperate times call for desperate measures."

"An early promotion…" Lee looked positively ecstatic. "I'd love that. What do I have to do?"

"Well, we're going to move you to the squires' quarters; the same one Logan's old squire had, as a matter of fact, since that's the only room open." Funny how that turned out. Francis only hoped that Logan's guess about the room being unhealthy in itself because of its placement in the outer wall by the castle moat was wrong. When Collan had fallen ill the previous winter Logan had claimed it was because of the vapors arising from the stagnant water in the castle moat, and had Collan moved to his own room. The healer had said it might be possible, but Francis had never heard anything of the like. Still, no one else had wanted the room afterward, but Francis was betting that the lad in front of him would be only too happy to take what was offered.

He was right. Jubilee was elated. Her own room! Even if it was just a tiny cupboard she would have been happy. She'd never had a space all to herself. Her parents' wagon had been divided into two sleeping rooms; one for her father, and one for her and her mother. She'd always shared space with someone, all her life. Now, to get her own room… "When should I move in?"

Francis grinned. "Here's how this is going to work. You'll still be attending your History class and your regular weaponry class, but after weaponry you'll be in the field with the squires, which includes your friend Robert. Their horsemanship classes include how to properly dress and care for the horses, how to ride carrying weapons, standards, and the suchlike; how to arrange your pack and your knight's pack; how to pitch your knight's tent, care for his gear (you won't have problems there, I saw that tack you cleaned!) polish and sharpen his weapons, and all that. That's going to take you till lunch; you won't have that free hour anymore, unfortunately. Then the noon meal, and afterward you'll be on the training field with Sir Logan. While he's training with the other knights, you'll be watching. After he's done, it'll be time for you to show what you've learned about caring for his things, his horse, and his needs. You'll have to learn how to field-dress his wounds, because a healer can't be everywhere at once; you'll have to learn how to distinguish between emergencies and non-emergencies; you'll have to learn how to dress wounds using the barest minimum of items. That'll take you through mid-afternoon. You have a free period then, before supper; that could be spent in your own pursuits, or doing any small chores Sir Logan might ask you to do; then supper, and you can do what you like after that till you're tired and you want to be in bed. Oh, and you'll be sitting at the squires' table from now on. And those plain brown clothes will be changed to the colours of your King and your Knight. Sir Logan's colors are blue and yellow; you'll have a tunic and leggings of blue, and a yellow cloak with the red and gold device of the King on the back. You'll also have the red and gold badge on the chest of the tunic."

Jubilee went off to her History class wearing a dazed look; the teacher had been informed that henceforth this lad would be wearing blue, and so permitted the lad a little woolgathering. He didn't call Lee quite as often that day. After History, Jubilee went out to the field, where the Horsemaster singled her out in front of all the others and praised her, then informed the others that Lee had been given an early promotion to squire. The other trainees cheered, and in the rush of happy congratulations, Jubilee failed to notice the sudden, malicious glint in Nathan and Stephen's eyes.

After weaponry class, Jubilee met Sir Francis in the trainees' quarters, clearing her things out of the chest. She was thankful that she had thought to stuff the cloths for her monthlies down into the scabbard of the sword; the sword had been a little short for the scabbard, which left a bit of space in the bottom. Sir Francis handed the sword off to her, and she carried that as she followed him down the corridors to the squires' rooms. He finally opened the door to a small, dusty room equipped with a small bed and chest exactly like the one she'd had in the trainee's quarters; but in the corner was another chest, slightly larger. Jubilee puzzled over the thing until Francis explained that she might be required to store some of Logan's things in here if his quarters got too crowded, and that was what the other chest was for. She nodded.

He replaced her brown clothing with blue and yellow tunics and leggings; she used the excuse that she needed to use the privies to slip off and change. The clothes were a little too large, but when she came back, Francis mentioned rather casually that since she was expected to repair any of Sir Logan's clothing if it got torn, she would find needle and thread in the second chest. Jubilee looked, and saw the hanks of dark-blue thread, and was delighted; she could fix her own clothes. She longed to be able to take them in until they were as formfitting as the catsuits she had performed her acrobatics in, but since that wasn't possible…at least she could bring the hems up on the leggings. Then she shrugged on the jerkin that Logan had given her, and hurried out to the squires' field.

And here the reaction, in contrast with her earlier cheering from her training mates, was cold. The other squires were much taller and older than she appeared to be; they were all about seventeen or eighteen, and a year away from becoming knights themselves. She felt very small and young among them, and even Francis's cheerful pat on the back and assurances that 'You'll do fine' failed to lift her spirits. And as soon as he left her, things started to go wrong. The instructor, while not outwardly cold, also didn't make her feel welcome. And things started happening almost immediately.

She was shown to the stall where her own and Logan's horses would be stabled, next to each other; and his blanket seemed to have mysteriously gotten lost. By the time another student 'found' it, it had holes in it that the student attributed to mice but that Jubilee was certain had been caused by scissors. Then a frayed girth strap on the saddle she had only yesterday cleaned and ascertained was sound gave way, and she was told she would have to stitch a new strap that night and have it ready for the next day. His standard, a heavy banner that mingled his blue and yellow colors with the red and gold of the King's personal ensign, also had holes chewed in it apparently by mice, although Jubilee suspected that the mice had opposable thumbs and metal teeth. She was just wondering if any of the others had known she was going to be promoted and had deliberately made trouble for her, when she saw Roger, Nathan's friend, smiling smugly at her from where he sat on the fence. Jubilee's heart sank. Roger and Stephen and Nathan's fathers had enough clout, and money, to buy their boys into the squires' training program; they would follow her here and make her time miserable. She set her teeth. If she had to she would keep all of Logan's things in her room, in the spare chest, to keep them from damaging things too much. Logan would be extremely unhappy.

The faults with his gear went on all morning. The instructor couldn't fault her dressing of the horse; at least she, unlike Roger, didn't try and put the bridle on the horse upside down. He gave her a brusque set of instructions on how to caparison the horse, then left her to do it. Some of the trappings were different from the things that her parents had used, but the underlying harness was the same, and Logan's horse, sniffing her scent, decided that he still remembered her enough to allow her to dress him. By the time the instructor called time on the lesson, Logan's horse was more or less ready.

The squires were told to undress the horses and put them away, then they were free to attend the noon meal. After the noon meal they were to report back to the same field and meet their knight here, and tack the horses back up for the knights' afternoon practice. Jubilee considered hurrying off to the dining hall, then changed her mind. Logan's backup saddle wasn't clean, and was stiff with old sweat. She grabbed another girth strap and whip stitched it together, then sewed it on the saddle she'd cleaned the day before. Oiling it until it was as supple as new leather could be, she set it aside and commenced stitching the holes in Logan's saddle blanket and standard. She was still hard at it when the other squires came racing back in from the noon meal and started tacking up the horses for the knights' incipient arrival.

Finally the knights arrived, and Jubilee's heart leaped as she saw the blue and yellow figure come striding onto the field. He went to his horse's stall, and as he checked the straps and made sure everything was on the way it was supposed to be on, he said to her, "Missed ya at dinner, kid."

"I was in here mending some things," she said. "Your standard and the saddle blanket had holes in it. They said it was mice."

Logan frowned. "When I left 'em yesterday they was alright. Francis said he was goin' to promote ya, so I made sure everything was gonna be in workin' order fer ya today so ya wouldn't have anything major ta do."

Jubilee shrugged and stared at the stable floor. "Mice can do a lot of damage in one night." She didn't want to tell him about her suspicions, that Roger was sabotaging Logan's things. She might just be imagining things.

Logan hmmphed, sounding unconvinced, but mounted his horse and rode out to the field.

Jubilee watched in awe as he went through his training with the other knights. They started out with group maneuvers, wheeling their horses left, right, then marching them in a phalanx before breaking into two 'teams' to simulate a battle. Her heart was in her mouth as Logan and another knight in green and red clashed in the middle of the field. The swordplay looked furious, but it was only mock battle, and when Logan 'scored' (touched the other knight with the tip of his practice sword) the match was called off, with Logan declared the winner. Another pair took the field, and then another pair. Jubilee realized what was happening when Logan rode out again, sword at the ready; half of the knights there were eliminated, and the others would have to fight each other until only one was left, the 'winner' of the day. Logan scored every time, finding ways to get under his opponents guard and get a hit, until he and another knight, one in black and yellow, were the only ones left on the field.

Logan was surprised. He hadn't been this close to being the 'winner' for a long time. His black responded to the lightest touch of the rein, the gentlest tug; the suppleness of the leathers really did make a difference in how the horse handled. He'd heard that particular legend before, but had never really put much store in it; now he realized it was true.

Julian, the knight he was facing, noticed too. "Hey. You finally got that old stiff stuff you have replaced? Your horse's responding better."

Logan grinned wolfishly at Julian. "Nope. Got myself a good squire. He worked wonders with the leathers."

Julian grinned. "Wonder if he can work wonders with something harder?"

Logan's good humour vanished. How dare… "He ain't yers," Logan growled. "Go find yerself yer own squire."

"Oh, well! Touchy, aren't you?" Julian looked at Lee, who was carefully polishing Logan's regular sword during the lull between battles. "On the other hand, seeing the way he looks, I can't blame ya. Was it you who messed up that pretty little face? Didn't know you had it in you."

Logan ground his teeth and forced himself to remain calm. Getting angry wouldn't help this situation any. "He got in a fight, Julian. Like all boys."

"Must have been one hell of a fight. Is the boy limping a little?" Logan took a quick look over at the sidelines, trying to see if Lee was limping; and was taken totally by surprise when Julian charged him. He got his shield up just in time to deflect the blow. "Maybe he's not limping from the fight. Maybe he's limping because you finally started using him?"

Logan lost his temper. That had hit a little further below the belt than he'd expected from a man he considered a friend. He charged Julian with a yell, and in the clash that followed, he only managed to deflect Julian's blows with luck. When they finally separated after the first round, he slumped on a bench to one side of the field, and Lee came out to him holding out a cloth for him to wipe his brow with. "Julian's tricky," the boy observed.

Logan bit back a growl. "No, he's not. I lost my temper. Did some stupid stuff."

Lee frowned. "But you're not supposed to…"

"I know, I know," Logan growled testily. "But he said…he implied…that you and I…" He made a gesture with his hands. It was a rude one, but it was the only thing he could think of, because he couldn't say the ugly words aloud.

Lee pressed his lips together, and said nothing for a minute. Logan was surprised, then astonished when Lee said, "Let him say what he wants to say."

"But…"

"We both know it's not true," Lee said. "So why worry? They can say what they like; only an idiot would believe that about you. You're so…honourable. You'd never do that. I'd never agree to it. Besides," Lee said, his voice dropping, "If they think we're…maybe they'll leave me alone."

Logan leaned across the bench and seized Lee's arm. "Anybody been harassin' ya? Been askin' ya ta do stuff ya ain't comfortable with? Tell me, an' I'll call insult on 'em…"

"No!" Lee pulled his arm out of Logan's grasp. "No, no one's approached me yet, but…"

"But what?"

"I see them looking…not just the knights, but some of the squires too…I'm only a trainee…"

"Yer not 'only a trainee'," Logan snarled. "Yer _my_ _squire_. Ya tell 'em I said so. They can't have ya. If any of 'em approach ya, tell me. I don't care if ya gotta wake me up in the middle of the night ta do it, ya let me know!"

"Hey, Logan, you coming?" Julian called from the field.

Logan ignored him, keeping his grip on Lee's arm until the boy said finally, "Yes. I'll let you know." As Logan rode back out to the middle of the field, anger swirled in his mind. _No one_ was going to touch the boy. Not if he had anything to do with it. His hot temper had cooled to a slow, cold rage, and he made several moves calculated to make Julian think he was still angry. When Julian rode at him again, thinking he was going to make the same stupid move, Logan got under his guard and scored. He rode off the field, the 'winner' of the day, but a look at Lee sitting on the benches at the end of the field made the victory taste like ashes. The boy wasn't happy. And that made Logan upset.


	12. An Unprovoked Attack

Chapter 12: An Unprovoked Attack

Logan was still upset with Julian as the practice ended, and as Lee set about untacking and cleaning the horse's harness and gear, he decided not to leave yet. He might run into Julian on the way out of the stables, and he was still angry enough to get in a fight with the man. And the boy still seemed a little upset. "What did ya think? This the first time ya seen a knight's practice, ain't it?"

Lee smiled brilliantly, lifting Logan's spirits a little. "Yes it was. And it was great! I never knew you were such a good fighter."

Logan laughed a little, but it was a grim laugh. "Ain't that good, kid," he said. "Ain't never been tested on a battlefield. That'll come this spring." He paused. "Look, Lee…I want ya as my squire, don't get me wrong…but are ya sure yer up ta a battlefield?"

Lee turned to him. "You're asking me?" he squeaked.

Logan grinned a little. "Yeah, I'm askin' ya. A battlefield ain't no place fer little boys. Lot of blood and death, an' stuff'd make anybody sick."

Lee looked serious as he finished brushing Logan's horse down and watering him. "I watched a swordsman cut my parents down," the boy said evenly. "I watched them die. I saw the light go out of their eyes. I watched as he and his men cut down the rest of the people I knew, I loved, and cared about. They killed my best friend, and my best friend's parents. They almost killed me. I survived…but then I had to bury them. I've seen death, Logan. I looked it straight in the face. It doesn't scare me. And maybe if I'm there, taking care of you and your stuff, maybe a keener edge on your blade, or more flexible leather on your saddle, or secure stirrups, or anything else, I might be able to keep you alive. You're a knight. You have to watch the king. You need someone to watch over you."

Logan sat, stunned. "Ya really feel that way?" he asked.

"I do," Lee turned and looked at him. "Look. I know I've no business giving advice to a knight…but I watched the way your horse responds, and I noticed you have to haul on the reins. My parents had a horse trained to respond to leg and thigh pressure, rather than reins. It would leave your hands free to handle your sword and shield in a pitched battle. Can I teach your horse that?"

Logan thought about that. Having both hands free to fight would be a distinct advantage, especially as he knew his opponent would only have one hand free. The boy was clever enough to see that. Logan grinned. "Only if you teach me too," he said.

Lee looked happy. "Okay." He grinned. "Your horse's already had enough of a workout today; but my horse hasn't, and I've trained him already." Lee disappeared in his horse's stall, and began to saddle the dark bay he rode. Logan watched the kid tack up the horse with incredible speed and swiftness; most Squires couldn't move that fast. Logan wondered where the kid had gotten so good at tacking up…and then he remembered, back at the village, the string of traveling caravans. A few more pieces of the puzzle that was his squire clicked into place. Lee had to have been part of that traveling caravan; that's how he knew those acrobatics, how he'd gotten so good at tacking horses, and how he knew how to oil and clean leather so well. Logan opened his mouth to say something…and then closed it. The boy had more secrets; and since they didn't seem to involve Logan directly, he'd let the kid tell him in his own time.

Logan mounted Lee's horse and guided the horse out into the field. Lee pursed his lips and gave a piercing whistle. The horse stopped dead. Logan shook his head to clear his ears, and Lee came striding up. "That's the signal for stop," he said. "Or you can haul on the reins. Either way will work. Now drop the reins." Logan looked down at the strips of leather in his hands, and slowly put them down, looping them over the saddle horn. He felt peculiar, not having anything in his hands.

"Press your right knee into his shoulder. Right there. Don't use your hands, grip with your thighs to keep yourself on." Logan obeyed, slightly surprised when the horse turned left and started walking. "Now drop your heels. Let your toes touch the shoulder just behind the horse's elbow!" Logan did, and the horse stopped moving.

He spent the next hour learning the knee and foot signals that would guide the horse. By the end of that hour his thighs and calves smarted and ached from the pressure, and he had memorized all the subtle movements and touches that controlled the horse's gait, from a fast gallop to a trot, a walk, and a canter. And he didn't have to use the reins once. He was proud of that; having both hands free would be extremely useful in a battle. Lee finally whistled again, and Logan picked up the reins and dismounted, leading the horse over to the boy.

Lee grinned and spent a few moments patting the horse, then turned to Logan. "I'll teach your horse all the things he needs to know so you can control him like that on a battlefield," the boy grinned, taking the reins from Logan. "Right now I want to take him through his paces again; he was a little hesitant when you were on him. I want to remind him who's boss." And to Logan's complete surprise, the boy unbuckled the bridle and draped it over the fence, then placed hands on the saddle and vaulted into it. Patting the glossy neck, the boy urged his own horse out into the field.

Logan stared as the kid took the bay through his paces. Lee didn't need to whistle the horse to stop; a faint, barely perceptible movement of his legs and feet started, stopped, and turned the horse. A hand on the horse's neck started the horse in an all-out charge across the field; a dig in the ribs stopped the horse just short of the fence rail. Logan was impressed with this display and was about to call out to Lee when he heard hoofbeats, and a knight swept by. The black and yellow colors were Julian's. Logan stared as Julian drew his sword, which shone in the late afternoon sunlight.

_That's no practice sword; that's Julian's battle sword!_ was Logan's first panicked thought. _What the hell is he doing—!_

Julian charged Lee and his bridleless horse. Logan expected the horse to rear and throw the boy again…but he didn't. Lee exerted pressure on the horse's flanks, and the bay danced out of the way of Julian's black gelding. Julian looked surprised too; then he hauled on his horse's reins to turn him and headed for Lee again, this time slashing with his sword.

Lee turned his bay around and rode by the knight, so close Logan could see the shock of Lee's bay's shoulder colliding with Julian's gelding's hindquarters. As the boy passed, Logan thought he saw a glint of something in Lee's hand, but he wasn't sure. And as he squinted, Julian charged the younger boy and his horse again. Lee ducked under the swing and the small shining thing in his hand flashed; Julian howled in anger as the sleeve of his tunic was ripped by his _own_ dagger, which Logan realized Lee must have taken during that last clash. "First blood," Lee said, reining in the bay. "I win." He held the dagger out on his palm, hilt toward Julian.

Logan was impressed. If he had any doubts as to the usability of this new hands-free policy on a battlefield, Lee's little demonstration banished them. Logan was about to go to them when Julian, his face a mask of rage, cantered forward, took his dagger, and slashed at Lee with it.

Lee screamed, a short, sharp sound, as the dagger opened up a cut along his cheekbone. Logan roared in rage as he sprinted out to the field and grabbed Julian's horse's bridle. "What the hell did ya do that fer, huh?" He dragged the other knight out of the saddle, shoving him hard against the bulk of the black gelding. "It was a fair fight. I saw it. Lee coulda actually drawn blood there; ya know it, an' I know it. He didn't; all he did was rip yer tunic. An' ya go an' slash him! Ya coulda taken an eye out, ya know that?" Logan gritted his teeth and turned. Lee had dismounted and was holding a hand to his slashed cheek. "Ya okay, kid? Here, take yer hand off, let me see…" Lee obediently turned his cheek toward Logan, and Logan sucked in a breath at the gash. "Let's go git that cleaned up."

"Just a moment," came a stern, authoritative voice. All three turned, and dropped to one knee, for standing behind them was the King and the Weaponsmaster. He taught all the knights, all the squires, and the trainees; they respected him as much as they respected the king. "Sir Julian, I would like to know why you incited an attack on this boy."

Julian clenched his teeth. "This field is for knights to practice on, not for little boys to play silly games on. And he should know he's not supposed to touch another knight's weapons; only Logan's. And he ruined my tunic!"

"That 'little boy', if I am not mistaken, is a squire now. Squires and knights use the same field, though at different times. The knights' training period is over; I see no reason why you should have objected. And the dagger…while I must agree with you, a squire should never touch another knight's weapons without permission, you were hardly in a position to agree. And you charged him with a drawn, naked blade; the boy had a right to defend himself. And as for the tunic…" he turned to Lee. "Boy!"

"Yes, Your Majesty?" Lee croaked.

Richard softened his tone just a bit. "You will repair Sir Julian's tunic tonight before retiring, and return it to him when you are done."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Lee breathed.

And you," the King turned to Julian. "Your conduct was most unbecoming a knight of my court. Your oath is to protect the helpless and defend the weak. This boy is smaller, and weaker, than you. The attack was unprovoked, and you have dishonoured your vows. You will receive five strokes upon your back for that, administered by the weaponsmaster, in private. Untack your horse and report to the sale." He pointed to the large wooden building where the knights and squires practiced during the winter months when it was too cold outside, and then turned to leave. He stopped suddenly. "Sir Logan."

Logan gritted his teeth, but kept his voice respectful. "Sir."

"Your squire did touch another knight's weapons. As he is bound by the squire's laws, he must receive a switching. Take him to the squiremaster and have the boy given five strokes; then take him to the palace healer to have that gash looked at."

Logan found himself unable to respond. "Your Majesty," he said finally, in a choked voice, "The boy didn't know about the laws. It's only his first day. Have mercy, Your Majesty."

"Our command is given," The King said firmly, and without a backward look, he turned and left the practice field.

Logan stood slowly. Julian turned away from him, grabbing his own horse's bridle and leading the black gelding away; he'd put his horse away while the weaponsmaster got ready, then he'd go and receive his punishment. And Lee had to do likewise. Logan turned to the boy and saw the white, pale face. "Easy, boy," he said quietly. "At least it's not a whippin'."

Lee didn't budge. "What's a switching?" he asked in a barely audible voice.

Logan sighed and dug his boot into the dust. "Ya got ta take five strokes from a birch switch on yer back," he said. "Come on. Might as well get it over with."

"No!" Lee gasped, staring in horror at Logan. "No! Oh, no!"

"What?" Logan looked at the boy. Why did he look like he was about to faint?

"I—my people, the Easterners...have a rule about showing the body. We're not allowed to, especially little boys…" The kid was terrified. Logan bit his lip. They'd never had an easterner before.

"I can ask the squiremaster ta give ya the switchin' on the arms. I notice ya didn't have a problem with armless tunics this summer. Will that do?" King Richard insisted that everyone's beliefs be respected. That included foreigners. And this boy, with his straight dark hair and almond-shaped blue eyes, was definitely foreign. "It'll hurt more, though."

"I'll take it," the boy said determinedly, heading for the stables.

The Squiremaster stared at Logan in disbelief. "Julian did _what_?"

"Lee was out in the field with his horse an' Julian rode out an' attacked him. Lee palmed Julian's dagger durin' one close pass an' used it ta shed first blood so the attack would stop. The king saw, an' ordered Julian whipped ta punish him for provokin' an attack first; then he ordered me ta bring Lee here fer a switchin' fer touchin' another knight's weapon without permission."

Francis stared at the little boy standing beside Logan. "I do not want to switchthe boy! Not for this!"

Logan ground his teeth. "Francis, jus' do it an' get it over with! The King himself ordered it, so it's gotta be done. The boy's people got some funny notion of not showin' the body to other people. Arms only, I guess. So yer gonna have ta—"

"Father used to switch my palms when I misbehaved," Lee said softly, suddenly. "I'll hold my hands out for you to switch them."

Francis stared at the two small palms held out to him, then at the slim, whippy birch rod in his big hand. "I don't like this, Logan."

"Do it, Sir Francis." Logan's face was set and tight as he saw Francis raise the cane over those hands, then closed his eyes at the sound of cane meeting flesh.

Lee gasped, audibly, but made no other sound. Logan cracked his eyes open, and saw the boy standing there with gritted teeth and set face. Francis gritted his own teeth and swung again. And again. And again. And then, finally the last blow.

Lee squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back tears he refused to shed, and Francis and Logan both turned away, to give the boy a measure of privacy while he tried to get himself under control. Francis said kindly, "Lad, there's a bucket of water out on the step. The coolness should ease the burning." The boy fled the Squiremaster's cabin.

Logan blew out his breath and sat down heavily. "That went over better than I thought," he said heavily. "The kid's got a lot more guts and self-control than I thought."

Francis held up a hand. In the silence, both men heard the soft sobbing coming from outside the door. "Not as well as you thought?" Francis said grimly. Logan stared at the door, anguished, then made a motion as if to get up and go to the boy outside. Francis grabbed his arm. "Leave him alone, Logan. He doesn't want to seem weak in front of you. Let him relieve his pain in private." Logan sat down reluctantly; those soft sobs felt like they were tearing his heart out.

"I can't believe Julian'd do this," Logan said angrily. "I don't know what he was thinkin' when he charged out on that field."

Francis turned and looked at Logan gravely. "Julian is not the knight he used to be," the squiremaster said slowly. "He was an aggressive trainee and squire, but lately he has become downright brutal. I was talking with the palace healer about another trainee a few days ago, and he informed me that the servants are trying to avoid getting near him. The other day he pushed a maid down the stairs. The maid didn't see his face, but she did see the edge of a red cloak going by. You know that red cloak the King's Knights are supposed to wear when you are not on the practice field, and you're on duty for the King? One of those. And Julian is the only King's Knight who would do such a thing. The maid was lucky she managed to catch herself partway down those steps. The healer said that if she had gone all the way to the bottom of the steps she could have broken an arm, or worse." Francis looked troubled. "I have seen him leave the palace wearing that uniform, supposedly on the King's business…but he rides no horse, and he is back too soon. I don't like him, Logan. And word in the town (discreetly, of course) is that he looks now for playmates among the harlots who have dark hair."

Logan stared. "He wants Lee," Logan said. "He was tryin' ta push me inta givin' him Lee. The Queen ordered me ta keep him, that's the only reason I did."

Francis looked at Logan curiously. "Why would you wish to give up the boy?"

"I thought…at the time…that Lee needed someone who'd appreciate him better. Not me. I can do most o' this myself."

Francis shook his head. "If you had asked me, I would have told you to keep him as well. Lee…is different from the boys here. I can't put my finger on it, but he's different. He doesn't flirt with the maids, although God knows the girls do plenty of flirting with him. He might be too young right now, but when he becomes a knight that pretty face will guarantee him a bed partner every night!…But Lee worships you. Practically kisses the ground you walk on. He'd be the first one in the dining hall every morning, looking for you at the knights' table; if you didn't catch his eye, he'd be moody the whole day. It's not physical attraction, I'd recognize it if I saw it in a boy…but he's definitely attached himself to you."

Logan grinned. "Never been worshipped before."

Francis grinned at him. "Don't get used to it, either! When Lee makes knighthood, you'll have to find yourself another squire, and you'll have another saucy lad to deal with. Lee's a one in a thousand, Logan; you'll never find another one like him."

The door opened, and Lee appeared. His face was damp, but he was composed as he said, "Do you think I need to go to the palace healer?"

Logan and Francis both inspected the gash on the cheekbone. "It's not bad," Francis said. "You'll be okay, I think."

Lee bowed formally to Logan. "Then with your leave, Sir Logan, I shall go to my room and wait for Sir Julian to bring me his tunic. The sooner I get started on it, the better."

"Go ahead," Logan said, and Lee disappeared.

Jubilee was sitting quietly on her bed, sewing up another hole in Logan's standard when the door opened and Sir Julian came in. He was scowling, and his voice was harsh. "Here," he threw the black tunic he'd worn at her. "Fix it. And do it neat!"

"Yes, Sir Julian." Jubilee quietly switched her attention from Logan's standard to the ripped shirt. Julian didn't leave, however; she wondered if he wanted something else, and the thought sent shivers up her spine. Logan had said she was to tell him if the others did anything uncomfortable…was Julian's presence in her room sufficient reason?

"Squire!"

She put down the sewing. "Yes, Sir Julian."

He handed her a small jar of ointment with the palace healer's mark on it and said. "Put that on my wounds." He pulled his shirt off and sat down on the chest that held Logan's things in it.

Jubilee reluctantly opened the jar. She didn't even want to touch him, much less dress his welts! But he had ordered her to, and maybe he would go afterward…she touched her ointment-smeared fingers to the first of the five long, red welts on his bare back. They were welts only; not cuts. He wouldn't scar. She worked hastily, realizing that the ointment was helping the welts on her palms too.

Julian closed his eyes as those small hands touched him. The palms felt odd…he turned suddenly, grabbing the wrist and inspecting the palms. Five red lines crossed both hands, and he saw the fingers were swollen. "Why did you receive a switching on your hands?"

'My people must not bare their bodies in public," the boy replied, not meeting Julian's eyes. Julian found that deliciously submissive, and his desire for the lad grew. Angry, he pulled the jar out of the boy's hand, capped it, pulled his red tunic over his head, and left the room without a second look. He hoped the spring would come soon, so he could deliver Logan to King Gallas on the battlefield, and receive the squire in exchange. What did he care for the silly traditions of another people? What he wanted, he was determined to get.


	13. The Shooting Contest

Chapter 13: The Shooting Contest

Logan looked up from his plate as Lee slid into the seat beside him at the table. "Hey. Yer late."

Lee flushed and lowered his eyes. "I'm sorry."

Logan rolled his eyes. "I was just talkin', kid, I wasn't mad or anythin'. But now that we're on that subject, why are ya late?"

Jubilee fumbled for a response. "Uh, I was, uh…I overslept," she said finally, and quickly grabbed for a roll and bit into it. With her mouth full she could avoid further questioning.

She couldn't tell him that she was late because her boots had been tampered with. She could have sworn she left them in her room while she went to the privies in her soft shoes; when she came back her boots were inexplicably missing, and it took a while before she found them tucked between the neat folds of the spare tunic in her chest. They had been dunked in manure, then put back. As a result, she would have to wash her boots and her tunic the next time she had a chance.

She had asked Francis if she could put a lock on her door, and he had given her permission, but the smith was just now busy with making other things to worry about something as small and insignificant as a lock for a squire's door. Jubilee was getting tired of finding her clothes soaked in manure, foul liquids, and other unmentionable things; yesterday she had found someone had put a dead rat into her shoes, and she had set her foot on it when she put her shoe on.

And now she wasn't feeling so good. Winter was setting in, and the castle was chilly. She wore the jerkin Logan had given her everywhere now, even to bed; but it still couldn't stave off the chill she felt from the drafts in the castle, and the gaps in her broken shutters didn't help much. The smell from the stagnant water in the castle's moat, just outside her window, didn't help either. The constant stench made her flee her room every day as much as possible; and when she was in her room, the smell made her nauseous. Even when she wasn't in her room she could smell it. And it made her cough. She had been unwilling to complain; she didn't want to seem ungrateful, so she kept her mouth shut and tried to hide her coughs. She ate as much as she was able, but her appetite had slacked off lately, and she nibbled on her breakfast until it was time to leave the hall.

Snow lay thick and heavy on the ground outside; any work with the horses was out for today. She joined the rest of the squires as they filed out of the hall, heading for their morning weaponry classes. The History course had concluded the previous week, and now the mornings were taken up with weapons and riding lessons.

Squires were allowed to have their own swords, though they weren't sharpened. Logan had watched Lee struggling to handle the one assigned him, and realized that while Lee had muscle enough to deal with it, it was too long for the kid to effectively handle. And since he didn't seem to be growing fast (Logan hadn't seen the boy grow much at all since they'd come, and had reached the conclusion that the kid was a slow grower, and was going to be short for the rest of his life.) He'd sought the Squiremaster's permission to give Lee a shorter sword, an inch or so shorter than the ones the other squires used, and was gratified when the lad stated doing better at the sword practice than he had formerly.

But Logan couldn't match the kid with a bow and arrows. Lee was _good_ with those. He was the best archer in the squires' class, and Logan would have been willing to bet the best archer in the castle. Some of the other knights asked Logan if he was jealous; Logan had replied quite honestly, that he hadn't been able to see why he should be jealous. Yes, he had been the best with arrows once; but as anyone who had sense knew, there was always a chance that you would meet somebody better at your weapons than you. It was inevitable. Logan knew that, and wasn't surprised to be shown right by his own squire.

In fact, he respected and admired Lee more than some of his fellow knights. Logan would have bet his sword on the fact that the kid could outshoot any knight there, and was a better horseman than most of them. Logan's horse was trained now to respond to a touch of hand, knee, and foot; neither his horse or Lee's needed reins and bridles, though neither let on that fact. Logan was afraid that if word got around, others would ask Lee to teach their horses too; and the boy was looking a little peaky lately. Tired. Worn. He didn't want to stress the boy further; after all, the boy was only thirteen. He was already handling responsibilities much weightier than most thirteen-year-olds dealt with.

Jubilee sighed as she reached for a bow and a quiver of arrows. She loved archery, loved that heavy, satisfying thud as the arrow sank into the target. She was good at it, too. No one else here could outshoot her. Not even Nathan and Stephen, standing down at the end of the line of students, had been able to match her in the archery lessons, and they had even talked their fathers into hiring tutors to give them tips and extra lessons! Her prowess had even spread to the knights, and now many of them, Logan included, would show up during the lessons to watch the squires, and her. And here they came, sitting on benches across the back of the salle. She could feel Logan sit behind her, heard him tell her, "Easy there. Concentrate." She grinned at him, then turned and shot.

It was close to the midwinter festivals, and the Weaponsmaster seemed inclined to be lenient. They had structured shooting practice for half an hour, during which time every arrow she shot landed squarely in the chest of the target dummies, and then he left them to independent practice.

Nathan and Stephen were kidding around with one of the boys down by their end, and the entire salle grew quiet when the boy put an apple on the head of the practice dummy and went to the far end of the salle, almost a hundred and fifty paces away, and tried to shoot the apple. He shot three arrows at the apple. All of them missed.

Stephen went next. He missed with all three of his arrows, too. Jubilee shook her head disdainfully. This was so easy; the target wasn't even moving, how could they miss? She sniffed and returned to her own shooting as squire after squire tried, and failed to hit the apple.

"Think ya can do better than those puppies?" came a voice from behind her, and she turned to see Logan looking at her with a smile.

She nodded. "It's not as hard as they're making it look," she said scornfully.

"Hey," Nathan turned to her. "You try it then, big mouth. Put your money where your mouth is!"

Jubilee shook her head. "I'm not interested in seeing if my balls are bigger than yours, Nathan," she said. "I know they are."

"How would we know? We've never seen yours!" Nathan challenged her. "So shoot at the thing."

Jubilee rolled her eyes. Without bothering to step forward to the line marked as the shooting point, she raised her bow, nocked an arrow, and shot, as casually as if she had been standing right next to the target. Her arrow flew true, as she knew it would, and lodged in the middle of the apple. The apple teetered fro a moment, then fell from the practice target's head, neatly impaled.

The knights broke out in applause, and Logan flashed her a grin. She smiled back.

"Well, that's all very well," Nathan said. "But what if you can't see the target?"

She blinked. "What?"

Nathan held up a strip of black cloth. "I dare you to do the same thing blindfolded."

Jubilee paled, but Julian, down the row, clapped. "Bravo! There's a true test of an archer's skills. Come on, let's have it."

"Wait," the weaponsmaster spoke now. "Let the boy get into position first. Let him sight the target, then put the blindfold on. The trick will be to see if he can shoot straight after having sighted the target and not having seen it."

Jubilee blinked. "No," she said. "No, I'm not going to do it blindfolded."

"Go on, Lee," said Logan's voice from behind her. "Ya can do it. I got faith in ya."

Julian whirled on him. "You have faith? Well then. Let's have you stand over there with the apple on _your_ head and see if the boy hits it."

The other knights started muttering. Jubilee went pale, staring at Logan wordlessly. He stared back at her. He had faith in her…but was it enough to place himself in direct path of possible harm? He looked at the apple Julian was holding out. "No," he said.

"Coward!" Julian cried. "You said you had faith in your squire, yet you turn the challenge down. Liar, and a coward." Several of the others, including Nathan, chanted 'coward' too.

Jubilee flushed at the look on Logan's face. "He's not a coward!" she burst out hotly. "I'll do it!" She marched determinedly to the line and dug around in her quiver for the straightest, well-fletched arrow she could find.

Logan stared. The boy was going to try it…well, if the boy thought he could do it, Logan would too. He strode to the end of the salle, pushed the target dummy aside, and positioned the apple on his head. "A gold that says the boy misses it," he heard someone call out. In moments, the money was flying thick and fast, and a white-faced boy was standing at the line, looking stunned. Logan fished into his pocket, came out with a coin, and flipped it to the Weaponsmaster. "On the boy," he said confidently. "He'll do it." He was the only one.

Lee looked scared as he looked down the salle at Logan. Logan planted his feet and forced himself to remain utterly still. If he moved even the slightest bit, after Lee had targeted him and after the blindfold had been put on, the arrow might miss, or worse, kill him. He saw the boy lift the bow, nock the arrow, and draw the string back. Then the blindfold was lowered over his eyes by the weaponsmaster, and the order to release was given. Logan squeezed his eyes closed as he saw the arrow leave the bow…

And then silence fell in the salle.

He cracked open one eye, then the other. The weight of the apple was gone from the top of his head. He looked down at the floor, expecting to see it had fallen. Nothing.

Everyone was staring at the wall behind him, and Lee ripped off the blindfold in the silence, unable to restrain himself. Logan turned to see what everyone was looking at.

The arrowhead had been buried in the padded wall behind Logan; the apple was impaled on the shaft of the arrow, neatly through the middle. He stared at it for a moment, then turned and stared at the boy. "You did it." His voice was soft with wonder. "Lee, you did it! You hit the apple!" he ran for the boy, wrapping his arms around the boy and lifting him in the air. The other squires were cheering, slapping backs, and applauding; even the weaponsmaster was staring at the impaled apple on the wall and shaking his head.

Jubilee felt a great rush of relief as she saw the apple impaled on the arrow. The silence after her shot had been terrifying; she had ripped the blindfold off, praying that she hadn't injured Logan fatally; and instead, she had found she'd done it. She'd done it! She'd really done it! She hugged Logan back, wishing, for one wild exuberant minute, that she could kiss him.

"Go and get your arrow, boy," the weaponsmaster said kindly. "I don't think anyone else will be able to practice anymore today." She left the cheering group, left Logan collecting the sizable pile of gold and silver coins from all those doubters who had said that she couldn't do it, and leaned against the wall for a minute, sighing in relief, before reaching for the arrow and apple.

There was a quiet, almost inaudible swish, and sudden agony bloomed in her hands. The shock was so sudden that she stood for a moment, staring at the arrow that had passed through both her hands and buried its head into the wall. Both her hands were impaled, just as that apple was. And then the agony struck full force, and she screamed with the pain.

Logan spun at the sound of that scream, and stared in shock at the arrow pinning Lee's hands to the wall. As the boy screamed in agony again, this time accompanying it with tears of pain, he broke out of his shocked, horrified freeze and ran to the boy, catching him around the waist with one arm, keeping the boy from collapsing and wrenching the arrow through flesh. With his other hand he grasped the arrow. The boy screamed in agony again as Logan wrenched the arrow out of the wall, but there was no help for it, he had to get the arrow out of the wall before he could free the boy's hands from it. The boy's eyes rolled up into his head from the agony, and he fainted dead away as Logan lowered him to the floor.

Logan stared. Blood was pouring from those hands; the arrowhead had torn a larger hole in the boy's hands than the diameter of the shaft. Vaguely he could hear the weaponsmaster tell one of the squires to fetch the healer, but Logan ignored it all as he snapped the head off the arrow and carefully drew the shaft from the right hand, and then from the left. As the shaft left the wound, Lee roused to an agonized awareness and screamed in agony as blood poured from the wounds. "Oh God, it hurts…!"

Logan wanted to cry too. The arrowhead had cut his fingers as he broke it off, but he ignored the pain as he took the boy's hands in his own, gripping them tightly to stop the bleeding. And there was a lot of it. The boy's clothes were sloppy with it; Logan's hands and clothes were soaked with it, the floor was slick with it, and Logan wondered how much more of it the boy could lose before slipping into shock.

"That's it, that's it, keep pressure on the wound, keep it from bleeding too much…" Logan gripped the bleeding left hand as the healer inspected the right palm. "Haven't hit any of the major veins, missed the big tubes that the blood pumps out of, and missed most of the tendons and muscles," the healer said grimly as he pulled open the bag he carried and seized a roll of bandages and wrapping. He carefully wound the bandages around the bleeding hands, stopping most of the bleeding for a short while, anyhow; then indicated to the two healer's apprentices to open the travois. Logan helped the man lay Lee's unconscious body on it, and started to follow the man, but the Healer shook his head. "I'll bring word, Sir Logan. Right now I need space, and quiet."

Logan watched the man and his two apprentices leave, with Lee's unconscious body between them. A cold, cold rage rose in him as he turned to the watching knights and squires and roared, "_WHO SHOT THAT_ _DAMN ARROW_!"

The weaponsmaster added his own words to that, much quieter but far more emphatic. "If I find it was one of the squires who did such a dishonourable act _in my salle_, I will flay the skin from your hide!"

No one spoke. Everyone had the same sick look on their faces that Logan knew was on his. "Ah, the hell with ya all," he shouted at them, and left the salle, running heedlessly through the thick snow to the castle.

He was out of breath when he reached the top of the stairs, and almost ran into Renee. She gasped as his bloody hands left stains on the front of her dress, and even as Logan started to fumble for an apology she grabbed at him. "What happened?" she gasped.

"Lee," Logan gasped out, the anger running out of him like water and leaving him with an overwhelmingly sick horror that Lee might die. "There was an accident…an incident…in the salle, Lee was shot…" And Renee abandoned him, racing down the steps toward the healer's rooms, leaving her maids far behind.

Renee flew down the steps. Accident…what sort of accident…She almost slipped at the bottom of the steps, but recovered and ran on, ignoring her maids' panted calls to her to stop. She ran down the healer's hall, just as the man himself was coming out of the room. "How is he?" she gasped.

The healer had a stunned expression on his face, and she knew the worst had happened. "Your Majesty, if the 'he' you are referring to is the young squire Lee, then I must inform you that that squire is no 'he', he said tonelessly. "I attempted to remove the young man's blood soaked clothing to change him, and found a most unexpected surprise underneath."

"I know that!" Renee stamped her foot. "I knew the 'boy' was a girl! And I am hereby ordering you, upon your loyalty to your Queen, not to speak of this to anyone!"

The man stared at Renee. "Your Majesty…my Queen…" he fumbled. "This is a matter of some importance…this girl cannot be allowed…"

"She can and she will," Renee said fiercely. "You will speak of this to no one, Healer, including the King. That is a royal order, from me, that can only be countermanded by the King himself. _Do you understand_?"

The Healer stared at Renee, then dropped his eyes, and his head, and nodded. "Yes, my Queen."

"Now tell me how she is."

"She," and the man laid particular emphasis on the feminine pronoun, "will be fine. The arrow missed most of the major tendons in her right hand, and her left fared better. She will lose some feeling, some mobility, in the last two fingers of her right hand; but it will not be serious, and she will still be able to handle a sword. Her shooting ability may be slightly impaired, and there will be some scarring, but no major injury will be done."

Renee blew out her breath. "Thank goodness." She looked over at the man. "You have a female healer among your complement of helpers, am I correct?" she said.

"Yes, but she is only equipped to deal with female maladies," the man protested.

Renee sighed at the man's obtuseness. "She can tend to any small services the girl may require. You will work on her hands. There are no differences between hands, and you will be spared the embarrassment of tending to female needs. I will tell your healer myself; you may not speak of your patient's true identity to her in front of anyone who may overhear. Do you understand me?" She turned and strode down the hall to find the rooms belonging to the female healer.

After she had informed the female healer of her new duties as regards to the young squire, revealing Jubilee's secret most unwillingly and swearing the woman to secrecy (a secrecy the woman, like Renee herself, was only too eager to preserve) she headed back upstairs. At the top of the stairs she ran into Logan, washed and dressed in his usual red uniform, waiting for her. "How is he?" Logan asked anxiously.

"The healer informs me he will lose feeling and partial mobility in the last two fingers of his right hand, but otherwise he will be fine," Renee said. "He will still be able to handle a sword, although he may never become an excellent archer, since the last two fingers will not curl around a bow any longer." Logan groaned and buried his face in his hands, and Renee felt sorry for him. However, there was nothing she could do now. "What happened?"

"We…there was a shootin' contest in the salle. Lee won. As he was goin' ta pull his arrow out o' the wall, someone else shot an arrow. The arrow caught Lee's hands an' pinned 'em ta the wall."

"When the culprit is found, I want him flogged," Renee said tersely. "This kingdom needs all of its fighters in top condition, and this careless act just injured one of our squires. You will find the culprit, Sir Logan."

"Yes, Yer Majesty," Logan said bowing to her. She dismissed him with a wave and watched as he trudged down the hall toward his room. She retreated into her own, sent her maids away, and only then allowed herself the luxury of a few bitter tears at the pain Jubilee must have endured.


	14. Revelations

Chapter 14: Revelations

Jubilee swam up through layers of soft, foggy darkness, back to the light of day. The drugs the Healer had given her to keep her asleep made her weak and sleepy, but she fought her way past them, past the dizziness, and forced her heavy eyelids open.

There was something bulky wrapped around her hands, and her fingers felt peculiarly stiff and numb. She lifted her hands dazedly up to her face, saw the bandaging around her hands, and the memory of what happened rushed back to her with sickening clarity. She gasped, and started to cry. Her hands! She'd never be able to handle a sword, or arrows, again. The loss hit her sharply, and she sobbed aloud, dropping her numb hands and laying her head back on the pillow with a thump.

Logan stirred, raising his head from where it lay on a tabletop on his folded hands. The boy's anguished sobs were loud in the silence. Logan watched quietly for a moment, as his normally stoic squire cried his heart out for what he thought he'd lost.

"Hey," he said, getting up from his chair. The boy started violently; Logan realised belatedly that the chair and table the healers had brought was out of the boy's line of sight. He hadn't known Logan was there.

"Logan!" The kid's eyes filled with tears at the sight of him, but the heavily-bandaged hand came up and tried to scrub away the tears already on the pale cheeks. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were in here. I didn't wake you, did I?"

"Naw," Logan said easily, dragging the chair over to the bed. "Naw, I woke up on my own." He sat down and stared seriously at the boy. "Kid…Lee…don't try to hide it. Yer hands must hurt like the devil. Ya don't gotta be all stiff all the time; if somethin' hurts, cry. It's natural."

Those blue eyes filled with tears. "What are you going to do now, Logan?" The boy sobbed, unable to hide his feelings. "You're going to have to go and find another squire, and me…what'll happen to me? Oh, God, I should have just died!"

Logan shook his head and scowled in mock ferocity at the boy. "Now, don't let me hear ya talkin' like that," he said, although his voice was soft. "Just cause yer not gonna be as good an archer as ya were before don't mean I'm gonna repudiate ya."

"But I'm no use!" Lee held up his bandaged hands. "I can't feel anything in them. My fingers are totally numb. You won't have any reason for keeping around a squire who can't use his hands."

Logan grinned. "No, I don't. But yer not a squire who can't use his hands."

"But…" The boy examined his hands again.

"Yer gonna be okay," Logan told him quietly. "These last two fingers o' yer right hand may not work so well anymore, and yer gonna have scars on yer hands like a crucifixion victim, but otherwise yer still whole. Yer just gonna haveta learn ta use yer sword in the left hand."

"The arrow didn't…it didn't ruin my hands?"

"No, it didn't," Logan decided not to tell Lee how close he _had_ come to not being able to use both hands at all. The healer had looked at the boy's hands and pronounced the kid lucky. If the arrow had pierced the hand any higher, Lee would have lost the use of all his fingers. "Two fingers're gonna be a little stiff, but that's it."

"Oh, thank God…" Two fat tears rolled down the boy's cheeks, and he blinked them away. He rubbed his face on the pillow, and saw the color of the sleeve. "My clothes…"

Logan sighed. "Yer clothes were bloody, an' ya couldn't lie in that bed fer three days with them like that. Renee dug out one of the pages' uniforms fer ya, an' had one o' the women healers put 'em on ya. She said this custom o' yer peoples only extends ta little boys and men. It's okay, apparently, for an older woman ta see little boys naked." Logan grinned. "Kinda makes sense, actually; yer ma hadda have seen ya skinnin' around when ya was little."

Jubilee laughed weakly in relief. So the Queen had worked her magic, and kept her secret safe. She was glad. "I've been here three days?" she asked Logan.

"Yep. Sound asleep fer most o' them days, 'cept fer when ya woke up and cried. The healers finally kept ya drugged ta make ya sleep." Logan sobered. "Kid, we haven't been able ta fin' out who it was that shot that arrow. The Weaponsmaster threatened to flog everybody senseless if the person who did it didn't 'fess up, but nobody's come forward so far. Ya didn't happen ta see anythin' right before yer hands sprouted a goose-feather shaft, did ya?"

Jubilee thought very hard for a long time, but in the end shook her head. "I reached up to get the arrow out of the wall," she admitted. "I was looking up at the apple; I didn't see anybody, even out the corner of my eye. And then the arrow hit me, and pinned my hands, and…I remember staring at it for a moment, like my hands didn't even belong to me anymore, and then the pain hit. I screamed. I think I sort of remember you pulling my hands out of the wall, but I don't remember anything after that."

Logan nodded. "All right. The Weaponsmaster and I went over the salle, inch by inch, and we couldn't find anything that might tell us who did it. I guess we'll have to let that remain our little mystery. Now, onta my next question. Why was yer spare tunics all mucky and stinkin'? None of yer stuff was wearable; yer gonna haveta wear pages' clothes till we get more in my colors made fer ya." He grimaced at the memory of going into that chest in the boy's room and seeing the manure in it.

Jubilee turned pink. "I-it was a prank the boys played on me," she said, staring at the blanket that covered her. "They stole my boots while I was in the privies, and soaked them in manure and put them in my chest. I took the boots and tunic out of my chest and put them in the basket with the other dirty clothes," she said suddenly, narrowing her eyes. "They shouldn't have been in the chest at all!"

"They weren't," Logan bit back a growl. "We went inta yer chest fer a spare set o' clothes fer ya, and it was full o' manure an' rottin' meat."

Jubilee made a horrified face. "They must have snuck back in and done something right after I left for breakfast," she told Logan. "Everything was neat when I left it. I always leave it neat so I know if anyone's been in my room when I wasn't."

"'Always'?" Logan's eyes narrowed as he leaned forward. "This happens regularly?"

Jubilee bit her lip. Well, it was too late for her to take it back. "The pranksters put a dead rat in my shoe two days ago. And they've been ruining your stuff; putting holes in your blanket and your standard, threw your spare bridle and saddle in the castle moat so I had to go and fish them out and spend an entire night cleaning them. They've torn my tunics and leggings, threw my saddle in the refuse pit, and lamed my horse; they even loosened one of my horse's shoes."

"They done all that?" Logan was shocked. Why hadn't he noticed? Come to think of it, that must be why the kid looked so tired all the time. As a squire, he had to keep Logan's equipment in perfect working order. Logan hadn't noticed any of the damage; that meant the kid had to be keeping on top of the pranksters' damage. And with the full schedule he had, he must have spent his nights repairing damaged equipment, not sleeping. "Kid, why'd'nt ya tell me?" He narrowed his eyes. "Ya know who's been doin' all this?"

"I didn't want you to think I couldn't handle your things," Lee said tiredly, sinking back onto the bed and laying his head on the pillow. "You made me your squire so I could take care of your equipment and gear. If I don't do my duty, you could cast me off. And I don't know what would happen to me if you did that; I've no home to go back to, and nowhere to go."

Logan sighed. "Kid, if I was going to cast ya off, I'd give ya a few warnin's first. And even if I did, I'd make sure ya had somewhere ta go to. I ain't gonna just turn ya out; I know ya ain't got nowhere ta go." He ruffled the kid's thick black hair. It felt soft against his fingers, and he had to suppress the urge to run his fingers through it. "Now, ya got any idea who's been doin' it?"

"No." The kid dropped his eyes.

Logan sighed and crossed his arms. "Kid. Tell me why I don't believe ya."

There was no answer.

Logan reached out and cupped the small chin in his hand, tilting the face up to meet his. The blue eyes met his, and he read the reason in those orbs.

"I ain't gonna get mad," Logan said. "C'mon, kid. Who's been givin' ya a hard time?"

"It wouldn't do any good," Lee said, his eyes looking for something else, anything else, to look at but Logan's face. "Their fathers got them back in the trainee's weapons program even after the weaponsmaster threw them out. Their fathers have enough power and money and influence to buy them out of trouble. So what's the use of me telling anyone? The next time they get me alone they'll-" The kid stopped talking abruptly.

"They'll do what?" Logan said, alarmed at the sudden silence. The kid didn't answer. "Lee, they'll do what? Are they hurtin' ya? Makin' ya do…stuff that makes ya uncomfortable?"

The kid shook his head. "No, they don't do…that."

Logan waited but no other answer was forthcoming. He sighed. "Oh well. If ya don't wanna talk that's okay. I think I gotta pretty good idea who it is, anyway. It's those three nobles' boys who dared ya ta the shootin' contest, right?" He leaned forward. "Ya don't gotta say nothin'. Just…answer me one question. Ya think any of them coulda shot yer hands?"

Lee laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "If I thought it was them, I'd have told you already. Not even their parents' money could cover that up. But no, it wasn't them. They couldn't hit the target dummies at fifty paces with an arrow; they'd never have been able to make the shot from across the salle to my hands."

Logan found himself agreeing to that as he headed up the steps to the Queen's suite. She'd asked him to let her know when the boy woke up; she seemed extraordinarily concerned about him. Logan wondered what it was that she knew about the boy that he didn't; he'd spent a lot of time thinking about it, and still couldn't figure it out. So the mystery still remained. Who could have shot Lee?

The figure was wrapped in a voluminous black and gold cloak, and wore all black clothing underneath. Because of that, it was hard for anyone to see him as he glided from shadowed doorway to shadowed doorway on his way to the nobles' wing.

He reached a heavy oak door, ornamented with a gilded griffin's head doorknocker on it. Disdaining the knocker (it would make too much noise, and if anyone heard it and came to investigate, he had no good excuse for being here at this time of night) he tapped lightly on the door twice, waited one minute, then tapped once.

The door opened almost before his fingers left the panel of the door, and a hand wearing a black glove reached out, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him in. "You fool!" the man on the other side of the door hissed as he tried to quietly close the door behind the other black-cloaked figure. 'What do you think you're doing! You risk exposing us if anyone sees you sneaking up here! One of the King's Knights has no reason going to see a minor nobleman tenuously attached to the King's court!"

The other figure brought his hands up and threw the hood of the cloak back from his face and head. "You worry too much, Duke Gilbert," he said scornfully. "No one would question one of the King's Knights."

"Except another Knight!" Gilbert hissed furiously, his features set and hard in the firelight. "Sir Logan's been coming and going all night, in and out. If he sees you…"

Julian laughed and dropped into a padded chair, reaching for the bottle of fine wine sitting on the small table in the Duke's room. "Sir Logan won't be asking anyone questions," he said, pushing the glass aside and grabbing the bottle. "He's so wrapped up in that little pretty-boy squire of his. I actually might have done us a favor by shooting the boy."

"How so?" Gilbert's hard, flinty obsidian eyes narrowed.

"The Queen's maids were getting a little curious. I had ordered one of the maids to come to my room before our last meeting, and then forgot. By the time I got back to my room she was impatient with waiting, and she wanted to know where I'd been so long, so late. I got her to shut up about it, but you know these girls, they tell each other everything. The Queen was lookin' at me a little coolly, until this fracas with the squire focused her attention elsewhere. She's very wrapped up with the boy." Julian laughed and brought the bottle to his lips. "Sir Logan's the only other one who might possibly try and figure out the connection between us two, and he's too busy trying to figure out who's been harassing his squire to really pay a lot of attention to what I'm doing lately. He still hasn't figured out that I was the only other knight in the room that day who has the accuracy to shoot anyone's hands at that distance. Or if he has figured it out, he thinks that I'm too honourable to do such a thing." Julian smiled.

Gilbert snapped irritably, "What is it about that boy? You, Sir Logan, the Queen…what's so special about that boy?"

"He's pretty," Julian shrugged, swallowing back another draught of the wine. "Too pretty to be a boy. I wonder if the lad might not be a girl under the clothes. Granted, he don't behave like a girl, but…well, I like the way the boy looks, and I want him in my bed." He put the bottle down. "I will get the boy, won't I? When King Gallas gets Logan, I'll get the squire, right? Per our agreement?"

"Of course," Duke Gilbert scoffed. "Like I would have any interest in dallying with a peasant boy. I like girls, Julian."

"I like either, as long as they're pretty," Julian shrugged. "But enough. I didn't come here to talk to you about a squire. I came to tell you that the King informed us he's going to start collecting his knights as soon as this winter weather turns. It's only a month till spring, and he's anxious to get this war wrapped up by the time summer comes."

"Where will Sir Logan be positioned?"

"Logan and I will be going to the border section between Argonne and Hildreth. If I'm not mistaken, that's only a few miles away from Gallas's summer fortress. I'll capture Logan in the heat of battle and draw him away, and then it won't be hard to take him to Gallas's fortress. I'll drop him off there, come back for the squire, and disappear with the boy to Gallas's side of the border. After he's got the information he needs and he crosses the border to get back here, I'll join him."

Gilbert said darkly, "I hope, for your sake, it turns out to be that easy. If you mess this up, we'll both swing for it; if not by Richard, by Gallas. I'm going to leave this up to you, Sir Julian; if I have to pay for your mistakes you'll regret it."

Julian waved a dismissive hand. "Come on. It's a boy and a single knight; what could happen? They both care about each other; Logan treats the boy more like a favored son than a squire. A few threats, some veiled references to bodily harm coming to the kid, and he'll be putty in Gallas's hands."

Gilbert smiled. "And what of the boy?"

Julian shrugged. "Threaten the boy with harm to his mentor, he'll go along quickly enough. Besides, he's a skinny little thirteen-year-old. He's not big enough to pose a threat to me." Julian picked up the bottle one last time, took a last generous swig from it, and put it back down on the table. "Now, if we're done here, I have one last errand to run before I go to sleep."

"You were the one who came here, not me," Gilbert grumbled. "What's so important?"

Julian laughed. "Another step in my campaign to have Logan repudiate the boy. I'm going to get the boy so sick he won't be able to take care of Logan properly. Maybe the man will finally open his eyes to the fact that the boy is useless." He stood, pulling the hood of his cloak over his head. "Fair evening, Gilbert."

"Fair evening, Sir Julian," Gilbert mumbled, sitting down in the chair and picking up the bottle. As the door closed behind his midnight guest, he upended the bottle over his glass. Not a drop fell out. "Damn it! He drank all my wine! That was my best red!" He stared at his empty glass, furious.


	15. Sick

Chapter 15: Sick

"All right, that was better. C'mon boy, raise the sword. I'm gonna come at ya again." Logan beckoned to the slim, small boy standing across the practice circle from him, sweat dripping down the small face. The kid was exhausted; Logan was going to call it a day after this next clash. The boy needed to learn to use the sword in his left hand; but he didn't need to learn how to do it all at once.

Lee sighed, but made no complaint. He hefted the sword in his left hand and raised his shield in his right. When Logan rushed at him, he swung the sword in an arc that was supposed to block the blow.

Logan concentrated mostly on parrying. The boy could attack, and attack well; the only thing Logan needed to teach him was how to block. The boy didn't have enough muscle in his left arm to do it properly; hence Logan had taken to training Lee himself. The other knights all teased him about the amount of time he was spending with the boy; but Logan ignored them, and did what he felt he had to. He'd also started teaching the boy hand-to-hand, in private; no one knew about those lessons. Logan wanted to give the kid some way to defend himself if anyone tried to force the boy to do anything unpleasant. He pushed away the nagging voice in the back of his mind that said he was also doing it because he wanted to spend more time with Lee.

He hadn't grown much over the winter; maybe another inch or so, but that was all. The kid had filled out in other ways; more muscle developed under the honey-gold skin, and baby fat disappeared from the cheeks and body. The hands stopped being soft and babyish, and were now sinewy and calloused from hours of sword practice, riding, and work on Logan's tack. Logan now owned the finest set of tack in the company of King's Knights; he was inordinately proud of the fact. And even prouder of his squire; he couldn't imagine getting along without the boy now.

The nobles had all retreated to their winter estates to be with their relatives during the Midwinter festivals. Logan had no family to go to; he stayed at court. Lee had nowhere to go either; and since there were no classes, he had a lot of free time. He got caught up with the work he had to do with Logan's tack, and with no one harassing him and making more work, he'd stopped looking so peaky. On mild days, Logan could see the boy out in the paddock with the horses, teaching them how to move together, how to respond to leg signals without the use of a bridle, and, one harrowing winter morning when Logan had gone to find the boy to give him the Solstice gift he'd gotten for the lad, he saw the boy trotting both Logan's horse and his own in circles around the paddock while doing a complicated series of acrobatics on and between the horses' backs. Logan had watched, partly in anxiety that the boy would fall and break something, and partly in wonder and admiration. How did the boy do all those things with his body? Some of those things hurt Logan just watching it.

He was about to approach the boy when the kid sat down on one of the horses' backs, leaned over the mane, and started coughing. Harsh, loud, wracking coughs. Logan didn't like the sound of that cough, but the boy didn't complain about it.

And he still wasn't complaining, but Logan frowned, worried, when the boy doubled over coughing, dropping his sword on the ground as he hacked. Logan sheathed his own sword and went over. "Kid, ya all right?"

Lee was coughing so hard he couldn't even speak. Logan hurried back to the benches, reaching for the kid's water flask, which Julian was holding out. Logan nodded his thanks to the other knight briefly, and returned to Lee. "Here," he said, pressing the spout of the flask to the kid's lips. The kid spluttered, but Logan said severely, "Drink it. It'll help the coughin'." Lee drank obediently, and the coughing eased. "C'mon. Think that's nuff fer today," he said when the boy stopped hacking. Lee nodded wearily, too tired to protest, and sheathed his sword as he left the salle. Logan paused to pick up his own jacket (it was still cold outside. Although the chill might feel good to the boy, Logan hadn't been sweating as hard and the cold wouldn't feel good on his own skin.)

"Ya did good," Logan said as the lad trudged up the stone steps to the squires' quarters. By now, the other trainees had 'graduated' to squire, and several squires had been promoted to knight in order to clear more rooms for the incoming trainees. Technically Lee should have 'graduated' too, but despite his skill at handling tack and everything else, he was still much too young to be made a full knight. And Logan was secretly selfishly glad of the fact. The boy could not be made a full knight until he turned eighteen; that was still five years away. Five years for Logan to enjoy the boy's company.

The kid pushed his room door open wearily and flung himself down on the bed after unslinging his sword and laying it across the chair. Logan went over to the window, grabbing the shutters and pulling them closed. "Remind me ta talk ta Francis next time a squire leaves, 'kay?' he said to Lee. "I gotta get ya outta this room. If ya won't move inta my room with me, at least I can get ya in another room that don't let the stink of the moat."

Lee just grunted. Logan took that as a sign that the boy was really tired, and grinned as he put the water flask down on the table next to the bed. "See ya in the mornin', kid," he said. The boy grunted in response, and pulled his blanket up around his shoulders as Logan left the darkened room.

Jubilee woke, feeling nauseous. She lay still for a moment, blinking, then her stomach rebelled and she yanked the bucket that sat beside her bed to her. She turned over and vomited miserably into the bucket.

She'd found the empty, unused thing in a corner of the stables, and carried it with her back to her room when she started getting sick in the mornings. She couldn't understand why; she knew for certain that she wasn't pregnant, but her stomach was constantly queasy, she wasn't eating well, and seemed to be always tired, no matter how much sleep she got. And then right after she had left the Healers' wing for her own rooms while her hands healed completely, she'd started getting violently ill. Not always in the mornings; sometimes in the afternoon, and sometimes in the evening. She struggled to get out of bed, reaching for her tunic and leggings, but as her feet hit the floor another wave of nausea rolled over her and she threw up, miserably, again. Again she tried to get up, and again she threw up. Each succeeding bout of nausea left her shaking and weak, and now she didn't even have the strength to get up. _Something's really wrong,_ she thought groggily as she pulled herself up to a sitting position. _I have to get to a healer._ But even as she pulled her tunic on, her head whirled and she retched into the bucket again. The effort drained her, and she lay down for a moment, pressing her burning hot forehead to the cold stone floor.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed; but when she finally roused, groggily, to the feel of a hand on her shoulder, shaking her. "Hey. Hey, Lee, wake up." The voice was Logan's. Logan!

She tried to sit up, but the whole room spun sharply around her, and she moaned and pressed her forehead to the floor. "Make the room stop spinning," she gasped in confusion. Her head hurt so much she could barely concentrate; the room spinning wasn't helping her nausea, and her sides and stomach hurt abominably from the effort of retching her stomach up. "Please make the room stop spinning…"

Logan stared at the boy in horror. Lee hadn't been waiting in the dining hall for him, as was his usual custom; Logan had assumed that the kid had overslept, and had come up to wake him for breakfast. What he saw instead was the boy passed out on the floor next to a bucket he had clearly been vomiting into; and the pallor of the boy's face scared Logan. He shook the boy, rousing him, and tried to get the boy to sit up.

"The room ain't spinnin'," Logan said. The boy flinched at the sound, and his bleary, blood-shot eyes tried to focus dazedly on Logan. The effort seemed to disorient the boy more, and he turned his head aside just in time to retch into the bucket again.

"I'm gonna get ya to a healer," Logan said firmly, picking up the bucket, slinging an arm under the boy, and reaching for the water flask on the bedside table. "Come on, kid." Lee got dazedly to his feet, clutching the bucket, and leaned heavily against Logan as he navigated a path across the room, out the door, down the hall, and down a terrifyingly steep set of steps that twisted and turned in unpredictable ways. The Healer's wing was down one flight and around a corner, but those steps and that corner seemed terrifyingly far, and his stomach kept rebelling. Logan paused to let the boy vomit again, and looked grimly at the black bile coming from the boy's mouth. It couldn't be good.

The healer gave an exclamation of surprise as Logan walked in, supporting the kid with one hand and holding a flask in the other. "I dunno what's wrong with him," Logan said as the healer took the boy in his arms and hauled him over to a bed. "I walked inta his room ta wake him up fer breakfast, an' he was collapsed on the floor unconscious." The healer pressed his lips together, grabbing for a cup of water and hurriedly emptying a packet of herbs into it, then held the cup to the boy's lips. "Come on, drink it," he said. "It'll stop the vomiting." Too weak to protest, Lee drank the cup dry.

The healer went for another cup of water, and cursed when he saw the bucket was empty. Logan proffered the water flask. "Here."

The healer took the flask, opened it, and started to empty the water into the cup…and gasped. The fluid coming out of the flask should have been clear water; what it was, instead, was murky and cloudy; muddy. The healer started at it grimly. "If that's what the boy was drinking, it's no wonder he's sick," he said. "Looks like it came out of the moat."

Logan made a horrified face. The moat received all the runoff from the castle; wash water, offal from the kitchens, and other such waste. Certainly unhealthy to drink from. "What's he doing with water from the moat?"

The healer was looking at the flask. "Isn't this the flask that the Weaponsmaster gives the boys? He fills it every day for the lads."

Logan shook his head, puzzled. "I saw Lee take the flask from the weaponsmaster yesterday after he'd filled it. The water came from a bucket filled with clear water. How'd it get so dirty?"

"Did anyone else have access to it? Maybe someone who doesn't like the boy added something to it while he was practicing."

Logan's mind flashed back. "I took Lee's flask from Julian," he said, his mind racing. Could Julian have…but why? Why would he do that? What reason did he have…"It can't be Julian," Logan shook his head. "It can't be." He sounded like a sinking man trying to convince himself that the bog underfoot was really solid ground.

The Healer looked at him oddly. "Why would Sir Julian do something like this? You must be mistaken, Sir Logan. Perhaps one of the other squires, who maybe resents your boy or dislikes him for some reason."

"Yeah," Logan nodded. "Yeah, that has to be it."

"Well, there's nothing I can do at the moment," the healer said. "The boy will have to wait until the sickness goes away. From the way his breathing sounds, he may have a lung infection as well. Probably ongoing. Has he been coughing a lot lately?"

Logan stared. "The coughing sickness?" he said.

The Healer nodded. "I'm pretty sure it is. And the boy has it bad." He pressed his ear to Lee's chest, listening to the breath whistling in the boy's lungs for a moment. "Yes. Where has he been sleeping?"

"Collan's old room, the one that overlooks the moat!" Logan exploded. "It was the only room not taken when Lee was promoted ta squire from trainee, an' they never changed it ta any other! I asked the boy ta come sleep in my room with me, but he refused! Said he'd get in my way if he did."

"He cannot continue to sleep in that room," the Healer said. "The air is quite unhealthy."

Logan ground his teeth, looking at the sleeping boy. "He ain't sleepin' in there anymore," he said angrily. "I'm gonna move all his stuff ta my room. He can sleep in Collan's old bed." Without anther word to the old healer, Logan stomped from the room.

He ran into Julian in the hallway outside his room. "Hey, Julian," Logan said. "Help me with somethin'?"

"Sure. What do you need?"

"I need ta git Lee's stuff outta his room and inta mine," Logan said.

Julian's eyes narrowed, but he said, "Fine."

Logan grabbed the handle on one side of the boy's chest of clothing, and Julian grabbed the other side. Lugging the chest between the two of them, they started back down the squires' hallway and up toward Logan's room. Logan took each step slowly, watching Julian out the corner of his eye. Something didn't seem right.

"Lee's sick," he said finally, abruptly. "The coughin' sickness from sleepin' in that room…an' he's also sick from somethin' he drank. The Healer says it looked like someone'd poured some water from the moat inta the boy's flask. It was clear water when the Weaponsmaster filled it, though; I remember seein' it. You was sittin' right there next ta the boy's stuff; ya see anyone tamperin' with the kid's water?"

Julian started to shake his head automatically, truth was a hard habit to break; then he stopped and pretended to think. "There was another squire there…I don't know the boy's name…but he was playing with Lee's flask," Julian said.

"Which squire?" Logan stopped and looked at Julian. "Nathan?"

Julian thought quickly. Which one was Nathan? Oh well. There hadn't actually been anyone; he didn't want Logan to suspect him. "Yes, it was Nathan."

Logan yanked on his side of the boy's chest so hard the other handle slipped out of Julian's grasp. He put the chest carefully down on the floor, and in another second his dagger was at Julian's throat. "Try again, bub," he snarled at the other man. "Nathan ain't no squire, an' besides, he an' his parents have been at their winter palace for the last few weeks. You the one was tamperin' with the kid's water; why?"

"I haven't done anything!" Julian protested as much as he could with the dagger dimpling the skin of his throat. "I didn't do it, I swear I didn't, and I don't know who did! I could have been mistaken about the other squire; they all look alike, you know!"

Logan wasn't buying that. He jabbed the dagger a little higher into the other man's neck, drawing blood from a small puncture just beside the big vein in the neck. "I think ya did," Logan snarled. "An' I think it was ya who crippled him, didn't ya? I been thinkin' 'bout that day in the salle. Ain't nobody else there had the skill ta shoot the boy from all the way in the back of the salle 'cept me an' you. I know it wasn't me; I wouldn't cripple my own squire, an' besides I was collectin' my winnin's. So it hadda have been you. Why, Julian?"

"You can't prove it," Julian said, eyes narrowed. The cat was out of the bag; he didn't need to hide anymore. His eyes went cold, glinting with malice, and his sudden change in appearance startled Logan. "You can't call me out in a duel in front of the king without evidence. And you can't kill me in cold blood right here; you're too honourable for that."

Logan stabbed the dagger back in its belt sheath. "You're right. I won't be an oathbreaker like you; I won't violate my vows and stoop to your level. But, Julian, I'm gonna be keepin' an eye on ya. If I see ya anywhere near Lee, or if I see him in pain 'cause of somethin' ya did, I will come after ya. I promise ya that." He turned away from the other knight and picked up the chest.

"You're a little touchy about the boy, eh, Logan?" Julian called mockingly. "And now you're moving his things into your room. You gonna start sleepin' with the boy? Let me know how he performs!"

Logan dropped the chest, took two quick strides back to where Julian stood, drew back his fist, and smashed the other man in the face. Julian went down like a stone, blinking as blood from his nose obscured his vision. When he finally cleared the blood, and the stars, from his eyes, he found Logan standing over him, fists clenched. "Ain't nobody touchin' the boy, includin' me," Logan snarled. "No one touches the boy 'less _he_ wants them too. And so far I ain't seen nothin' that says he leans that way. So shut yer fat mouth, Julian. You touch that boy without his say so, and that's the last time you'll be touching anyone, or anything. Got me?" Logan turned, grabbed the chest, hefted it on his shoulder, and marched off.


	16. Fight

Chapter 16: Fight

Logan didn't say anything to Lee about that little conversation he'd had with Julian, but he started keeping a sharper eye on the boy. It was the wrong time for something like this to happen; Logan should have devoted all his time to training. The cold weather had broken, and the King was just waiting for most of the spring rains to stop before heading out to the battlefields. The knights were practicing on the field harder than ever, in preparation for the coming battles with Gallas; and as a result the squires were busier than ever. There were no more incidents, thankfully, with manure and muck in the boy's things; his new place, sleeping in Logan's room, prevented that. No one dared do anything in front of the knight.

However, Lee couldn't hang around Logan all the time, and besides, the meetings King Richard was having with the few selected knights he trusted took up increasingly more of his time. The nobles came back to court, and with their return, (especially Nathan, Stephen, and Roger's return) Logan saw the boy start appearing with bruises on his arms, face, legs, and hands. Lee refused to tell Logan what happened; to the knight's repeated questions, he would only reply that he had slipped on something and fallen, or gotten clumsy in practice, or something similar. Logan was exasperated. Yes, he was busy; yes, he had a lot of things to do; yes, he had a lot on his mind; but the boy's welfare and health was important to Logan too. The kid seemed determined to stay out of Logan's way all the time; by the time Logan got to his room at night the kid was wrapped in his blanket, asleep; by the time Logan woke in the morning the boy was up, dressed, and waiting to help Logan get himself together for breakfast.

"The King wants ta have breakfast with us knights," Logan growled one morning as he pulled his freshly-cleaned red tunic over his head and inspected the tear the kid had fixed in the sleeve. It was hardly noticeable anymore; the rip was gone. Logan liked the way the boy mended things. "So I gotta go ta his rooms this mornin'. You go on an' have breakfast, okay?" Lee nodded silently. Logan continued. "I don't know how long I'm gonna be with the King, so when ya get done, go on out ta the field and train with the squires. Then untack and come back here. We're gonna be heading out ta the border soon, and my armor needs ta be cleaned, oiled, and gotten inta working condition. I'd rather ya do it here than in the barn with the others." Lee nodded again, and Logan went off to the meeting with a lighter heart.

King Richard had only called his trusted knights, apparently conceding to Queen Renee's demands that no one outside his intimate circle know of their plans. Logan was mildly surprised that Julian was not included in that 'intimate circle'; the other man had been a knight for longer than he himself had; had, in fact, become a knight under King Richard's father's reign. However, he wasn't going to complain; he didn't even want to see the other knight, not after what Julian had done to Lee.

He walked into the king's private audience rooms, took a seat at the table there, and watched as the other knights started arriving one by one. There were six in all; Logan, Sir Nicholas, Sir John, Sir George, Sir Andrew, and Sir James. Then King Richard came in, with Queen Renee on his arm, and all of them rose and bowed courteously, until the Queen settled herself on her chair. Servers started bringing in platters of fresh spring fruit and other breakfast items from the kitchens, and talk stayed on lighter topics for a while.

Finally, as the dishes were being cleared, the King took a large, rolled-up map from a nearby table and spread it out before the knights. "This is a map of our western border," he said. "Gallas is here, here, and here," he put three coppers on the map where Gallas's men were, "and we will be coming from the east here," two silvers were put on the map and moved along the roads leading from the capital to the battlefront. "Our spies tell us he's concentrated his forces and attacks near Argonne; we assume that's because his summer fortress is only three miles away from the town. Also, since Argonne is on the river on which we depend for our water, it's a pretty sure guess that Gallas will try to take the town, block the river to cut off our supply of water, and besiege us until we surrender. He must not take that town. Whatever we do, it must be to prevent that."

He sat down, looking serious. "I had a couple of spies planted in Gallas's court last fall. Two months ago, they stopped reporting; I can only assume that they were found out …and silenced." Logan bowed his head; more men lost could only be a bad thing. And the loss of spies…that, too, was a bad thing. "The problem is that now, with no source of information inside Gallas's court, we have no idea what his troop strength may be like, and what he might be planning to do. We can only hope that we have guessed correctly what he might be planning. Also, I have another serious matter to report; or rather, Renee does."

Logan eyed the Queen respectfully as she tipped her head gracefully to the assembled knights. "I regret to inform you of this," she said clearly, her voice clear and precise. "There is, among the number of you here in court, a traitor."

The knights rose as one around the table, shouting in anger and swearing their innocence. Logan remained seated, watching the queen with a smile lurking around the corners of his mouth. The King was clever, letting his Queen give the news. Every knight here in this room had also, at one time or another, been a bodyguard for the Queen; they were all tried and true, loyal to only one King, one Queen. There were other knights in court who had sworn allegiance to Gallas or another king at one time, only to resign from their former courts to serve in Richard's, for their own reasons. Julian, he now realized, was one of those That explained his absence here.These six knights were the only ones in court who had only sworn allegiance to one King in their lives. And now, with that realization, Logan saw that Renee must have compiled the list of knights to attend this meeting, because she knew which ones were loyal to herself and Richard.

She waited for the uproar to peak a little, then held up a hand. There was instant silence. "I am not accusing anyone here," she said with a quiet little smile. "I _know_ all of you are loyal; I have my own network of spies here in court, carefully placed over the last year. There were too many battle casualties last summer, gentlemen, for it to be coincidence. Richard and I suspected that someone within court was passing information out to Gallas. Over this past winter, my spies have been bringing me news; thus far, I know there are two confirmed spies; a nobleman and a knight. I do not know which they are, but I will find them."

Sir Nicholas stood, his face flushed. "Your Majesty, when the traitor is found we would ask that he be bound over to Knights' justice. He swore to uphold our codes, he swore he would serve Your Majesties, and only Your Majesties, until such a time when he resigned from court. He violated that oath. We will punish him for the breaking of that oath!"

Renee smiled warmly at Nicholas. "The honour of the King's Knights means so much to you, then, Sir Nicholas? The dishonour of one dishonours you all. Yes, when we find the traitor, you may demand justice of him. Richard and I will deal with the other. And I thank you for your support, and your loyalty." Nicholas bowed over her hand, kissing her royal signet; the rest of the knights followed his example.

Richard watched with a look of satisfaction, and didn't speak until all the knights were seated again. "We will be leaving for the battle front in a week. It should be enough time to have your gear repaired and gotten in working order; and your squires trained and prepared for the rigors of hard travel. Sir Logan, I am worried somewhat about your squire. Would it not be better for him to remain here? The battlefield is no place for a child."

Logan was quiet for a moment before replying. "I asked the boy the same question myself, Yer Majesty," he admitted finally. "He 'minded me that his entire village was destroyed an' his parents an' all the townsfolk were killed. He's no stranger ta death, Yer Majesty; I don't think he'll pause in the carryin' out o' his duty even in the middle o' the battlefield. He watched his parents die under a murderer's blade; after somethin' like that, he can't be considered a boy any longer. He'll be comin' with us when we leave."

The King nodded his head gravely. "I shall trust your judgment on this, Sir Logan. If you say the boy will be all right, then he will be permitted to come."

Logan hurried out to the practice field after that with a much lighter heart. He knew in his bones that Lee could handle the trip; the kid was, indeed, eager to go. Knowing that the King had given his permission for the boy to be included took a weight off his mind, as regards what everyone else would think. With the king's approval, no one would pick on him about his choice.

He rounded the corner and stopped short. The squires were standing around in a circle, watching something in the center of the practice field; Logan couldn't see what was actually going on, but he did catch a glimpse of a brown-haired head. Then he saw a black-haired head that could only be his squire.

"Outta my way!" He barreled into the surrounding circle of boys, and headed for the center of the circle. When he got there, he stopped.

Lee was facing Nathan. Logan raised an eyebrow; the noble's boy had grown in the few months he'd been away from court. He was now taller than Lee by several inches, and had apparently been taking lessons from somewhere that had made his muscles bulk up considerably. Logan studied the boy calculatingly. Nathan's hair was kept at shoulder length, as was currently the fashion among the young scions at court; the length presented too easy a handle to grab the boy. He had his fists put up in what would seem like a brave, defensible gesture, but which Logan could see was patently ridiculous. He could have gotten under Nathan's defenses easily; Lee could have beaten Nathan easily. Neither combatant was sweating or breathing heavily, which meant the fight had just gotten started. Logan briefly considered wading in there and breaking it up, but decided not to. This would be a good test of all those hand-to-hand combat skills he'd been teaching the boy. He crossed his arms and settled in to wait, his eyes flicking briefly over the rest of the crowd, seeing who else was there. And there, lurking at the back of the crowd was Julian, among a knot of other knights who had seen the fight start but not interfered. Logan pushed down his rising anger and turned his attention back to the fight.

They were still circling each other. Nathan was sitting back and waiting for Lee to bring the fight to him; Lee was waiting for Nathan. Someone in the crowd jeered, "What's the matter, slant-eyes? You scared to fight?" Lee flushed, but didn't allow himself to get angry, keeping his attention focused on the boy in front of him. Logan nodded approvingly. Good. The boy hadn't forgotten that particular lesson.

"Come on, Nathan, kick the kid's butt like you used to and let's get going," one of the boys standing behind Nathan whined. Nathan flicked his eyes sideways to the boy, and made a rude face.

That moment of distraction was enough. Lee darted in, doing a lightning-fast move, slipped under Nathan's arm, and gave the taller boy a stiff uppercut to the jaw. Before the other boy could do more than yell in anger, Lee was back at his side of the fighting circle, watching Nathan warily for any signs of a retaliatory strike.

He didn't have to wait long. Nathan yelled in anger and ran forward, intending to wrap his arms around Lee and bear him down to the ground. Logan tensed; if the bigger boy closed with Lee it would all be over. Lee was physically smaller and weaker than Nathan; that would make a huge difference in a close fight. Lee's only hope for staying in this fight was staying away from Nathan. He was smaller, lighter, and faster; Nathan was larger, more muscular, and bulky; but he was also slow and not a good thinker.

There! Logan saw Nathan's swing go wide as Lee ducked under the other boy's arm and sprang nimbly across the circle. Nathan didn't even get a chance to touch the boy. Angry now (Logan could see the red flush creeping up the boy's neck from the collar of his green velvet tunic) Nathan turned to look at Lee. "Stop dancing, start fighting," he taunted Lee. "Come over here and fight like a man, not like a girl!"

Lee ignored the taunt, and Logan nodded slightly. Good. The boy wasn't going to be distracted. Nathan sighed, and rushed Lee again. Lee jabbed a foot out, higher than Logan had thought it possible for anyone to raise a foot, and kicked out at Nathan as the bigger boy passed. The foot jabbed Nathan in the jaw, knocking the boy to the ground, and Logan saw blood on the boy's lip when he rose.

They circled again, and Nathan was getting angrier, because his left hand kept swinging past the width of his shoulder, leaving his side unprotected. Lee saw it too. He wasn't actively looking at it, but Logan could tell from his alert stance that he was aware of that crack in the bigger boy's defenses. Lee suddenly made a move for that side, sweeping past in a hard, fast run, and jabbed his foot in the other boy's side. Nathan howled and fell to his knees in the dust, clutching his side. He knelt there for a brief moment, then, completely enraged, he spun and lumbered after Lee, arms outstretched so he could grab the smaller boy in a bear hug and slam him into the ground.

Lee slid out of the way, easily, avoiding capture by flipping backward, a move Logan hadn't taught the boy but which came in handy here and now. As he hit the ground on the other side of that backwards cartwheel, he flattened himself to the ground, wrapped his legs around the other boy's legs, and brought Nathan to the ground. Nathan struggled, but Lee's legs were firmly wrapped around his, and the smaller boy's foot was just behind the kneecap; one fast kick, and Nathan could be lamed for life. And he knew it. Logan saw the weaponsmaster off to the side, silently counting off the seconds Nathan was immobilized and unable to move, then called, "Time!"

Lee unwound his legs and got up, dusted himself off, and saw Logan. With a bright smile, he started to walk toward him.

That was when the attack came that he didn't anticipate. Nathan yelled in anger and fury and launched himself at Lee, grabbing the smaller boy's knees and tackling him, dragging him down into the dust. A huge cloud of dust puffed up around them, and for a moment all anyone could hear was the sound of fists thudding against flesh, and an occasional grunt. They rolled out of the dust cloud, coughing, and Logan stared, stunned. Lee's eye was blackened, and his lip was split, but Nathan was bleeding from his mouth and nose, and his strikes against Lee were half-hearted, at best. Both boys were hitting each other with fists and kicking with feet, and not even the furious shouts of the weaponsmaster was enough to break it up. Logan marched into the circle, folded his arms, and snapped, "Lee."

The boy froze immediately. Nathan got a few more punches in before Logan hauled his squire off the other boy, and the weaponsmaster grabbed Nathan's collar. "ENOUGH!" the man yelled as Nathan struggled against his grasp, trying to reach Lee. Lee, cowed by Logan's glare, waited silently. "Nathan, that was a display of dishonourable behavior as I have never seen from one of your rank before! Time was called; the fight was over. You should not have attacked after time had been called. And attacking anyone from behind was an act of cowardice, especially since the boy was younger and smaller and weaker than you. Your father shall hear of this. Now march off to the Healers, and then go to your room." He pointed to Stephen and Roger. "Go with him; make sure he reaches his destination." He turned to Lee. "You, boy. I understand the second half of the fight was no fault of yours, but the beating you gave one who is higher in rank than you was unpardonable. You will muck out your own stall, and the stall of your knight's horse, by yourself, tonight." Lee schooled his expression, but Logan knew the boy was surprised. Mucking out two horse stalls was not much of a punishment, as most punishments went. The weaponsmaster must indeed have been annoyed with Nathan.

As the crowd of watching knights and squires started to disperse, Lee started walking off to the stables to put the tack away. Logan grinned as he fell in step beside the boy. "Hey. Good fightin' back there. Can't approve o' the second half, but ya did all right fer yerself the first half. An' the second half wasn't all that bad neither," he added with a conspiratorial wink. "Taught that little snot a lesson, did ya?"

Lee grinned and bounced a little on the balls of his feet. "Yep. And it was fun, hearing him grunt when I slammed him." The boy mimed a punch in the air. Logan grinned at the boy's enthusiasm, and ruffled the black hair. "Have fun mucking out the stalls," he said with a wicked, merry smile.

Jubilee turned the corner and started climbing the steps wearily. Mucking out stalls was hard work; her shoulders and back ached, and she could hardly wait to get to bed. Especially since she had to change before Logan got to the room. Living in his room with him had eliminated the need to wash her clothes every day from the pranks that had been played on her, but it also made changing before Logan got to the room a necessity. Fortunately, Logan was fairly predictable in his habits.

She hit the top step, sighed and leaned against the wall for a minute, wondering if she should go and see the Queen before she went to bed. But she smelled like horse muck, and the Queen would surely not like the smell. And Jubilee didn't have anything to tell her anyway. She trudged down the hall toward her room.

She heard the whisper of soft shoes on the stone floor just moments before a heavy cloth sack was thrown over her head. She struck out blindly, unable to see her opponents through the sack but knowing where they were from the sounds of breathing, and was rewarded with several grunts as her fists connected with flesh. One of her fists hit something soft, and whoever it was cried out. She couldn't put a name to the face, but she was pretty sure it was Nathan and his crew.

The sack was pulled down further, until it hit her knees; then she was swept off her feet and her knees were kicked so that her feet would fit in the sack. She felt the sack close around her, and frantically wriggled around and tried to reach for the mouth of the sack. Before she could reach it, it was yanked closed and tied shut. She screeched, wriggled, and flailed inside the sack, but it made no difference to her captors. She felt the sack being lifted and carried off. The sudden movement threw her off balance, and she gulped as the rocking motion made her stomach lurch. There was very little air inside the sack, and it was stiflingly hot; she struggled, trying to get loose.

She was carried along for some minutes, struggling and shrieking, in hopes that someone would hear her, but no one did. Suddenly she was swung off someone's shoulder, and laid on what felt like ground; it was rocky and lumpy. Hands felt for her through the sack; she lashed out with her fists and found then caught by other hands. She yanked, but couldn't free herself. Other hands felt for her, and located her neck; then a rope was tightened around her neck, and one around her hands. Thus immobilized, she was unable to fight as another rope was tied around her ankles. Then all three ropes suddenly tightened, and she tried to scream as her entire weight, sack and all, was suddenly pulled upwards through the air. She was hanging by her neck, wrists, and hands. The pull was agonizing, and she found she could only get a very little air in her lungs.

She was concentrating on breathing, so she never noticed when she stopped traveling upwards.

Nathan indicated to Roger that he should tie off his rope to the tree limb he was standing beside. Lee had stopped struggling; he figured the smaller boy must be concentrating on getting air into his lungs. He smiled, then gave an extra hard yank on his rope, the one around the boy's neck, before tying it off. Lastly, Stephen tied off his rope to another tree limb. Nathan stepped back and surveyed his handiwork. This was good. It was the best idea he'd ever had. They didn't want to kill the little squire; just teach him not to beat up on a boy as highly ranked as Nathan himself was. They'd leave the boy hanging all night, and come release him after breakfast tomorrow. "Good work, Roger," he said as the other two boys came up.

Roger looked at the bag, hanging from the tree limb. It wasn't moving. "Isn't this kind of…cruel?" he asked. "What if the rope around his neck slips, and he chokes to death?"

"It won't," Nathan said confidently. "I tied it securely. It's tight, but it won't choke him. Come on. Let's go in. I'm tired."

Roger looked at the bag for long moments, feeling vaguely uncomfortable. "I don't know about this," he finally said nervously, looking at Nathan.

"You can't tell on us," Nathan said to him, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "If you do, they'll know you helped too. You can't get us in trouble without getting yourself in trouble." He grabbed Roger's arm. "Come on. Let's go." Roger went, with a last look at the hanging bag.


	17. Judas Cradle

Chapter 17: Judas Cradle

Logan poked his head in the bedroom. "Lee? Supper's ready, aren't ya comin' down?"

There was no answer, the room was empty. He sighed to himself, made a face. Where had the boy gone off to this time?

He went down to the squiremaster's office, checked there. Francis was probably on the way to dinner; and there was no sign of Lee. Thinking maybe the boy might still be working out in the stables, he checked their horses. Both animals were fed and watered, the straw in their stalls changed, and getting comfortable for the night.

He retraced his steps to the dining hall. Still no Lee in his accustomed seat beside Logan. He was about to leave and go search for the boy when he spotted three of the noble's boys, slipping into the dining hall by the rear door. They didn't notice him, but Logan noticed that their clothes were different from those they'd worn earlier, almost as if they'd gotten rumpled and changed hurriedly sono one else wouldknow.

Well, they were fairly close to Lee's age. No one would take it amiss if Logan were to ask them if they'd seen Lee. He waited until they were seated, then strolled up to the table, sketching a bow toward the assembled people. "Beggin' yer pardon, m'lords an' ladies," he said, catching everyone's attention in an instant, "But my squire seems ta have gone missin', an' I was wonderin' if I could ask these lads here if they'd seen him."

Nathan's, Stephen's, and Roger's fathers looked down at their boys expectantly. Nathan looked up at Logan with wide, innocent-looking eyes, and said, "No, Sir Logan, we haven't seen Lee." Stephen followed suit. Logan looked at Roger, noting the boy's hesitation as the kid said, "No, I haven't seen him."

Logan's sharp eyes noted the boy's nervousness. "Are ya sure?" he said earnestly. "When was the last time ya did see him?"

"Uh…" The boy stopped nervously, looking to the two other boys. He was transparently nervous about something.

Nathan said quickly, "He was mucking out the stalls when we last saw him." Stephen nodded, and Roger finally nodded too.

Logan narrowed his eyes. "Now think real hard 'bout this," he said to Roger. "Are ya quite sure that was the last time ya saw him?"

"Are you calling us liars?" Nathan rose from his chair angrily. "He said it was, that should be enough for you!" Nathan's father looked outraged, too, but Roger's father held out a hand.

"Steady now. Let's all not go flying off the handle." Roger's father was the Duke of Kent; a tall, imposing man with hair going silver at the temples and a calm demeanor. "Nathan, I believe the knight was speaking to my son, not you. Roger," he said to his son, "Honesty is one of the things I have tried to teach you. You know I value honesty above all else. Tell me the truth, boy, was the stables the last place you saw Sir Logan's squire?"

Roger nodded, then, at his father's stern look, slowly, slowly shook his head.

Nathan surged out of his chair. "Roger, I swear, if you tell--"

Logan stared at the other boy, who had his fists clenched and eyes alight with fierce anger; then back at Roger, who was staring at the tabletop and looking miserable. "He's in the tree." The answer came out as a slow whisper.

"What?" Logan leaned in closer to hear what the boy was saying. All conversation at the table had stopped, and the rest of the room was gradually starting to realize something was going on at the high table. The normal noise of the room was tapering off as faces stared at the knight standing by the table, and the squirming, red-faced boy in the seat.

"He's in the old oak behind the trainee's barracks," Roger said, his voice dropping lower. "Nathan and Stephen and I put him in a Judas Cradle in the old oak."

Logan spun away from the table, almost stumbling over the knight's table in his haste. Roger's father leaped out of his seat too, and Roger followed quickly behind. Logan flung the doors to the dining hall open, not caring as they crashed against the stone. He pelted as fast as he could down the hallways, closely followed by Roger's father and Roger himself, out the side door to the trainee's barracks, around the side of the building, and came skidding to a stop by the old oak. It was getting dark, almost too dark to see, but Logan could make out a bulky shape wrapped in a heavy cloth sack in the branches. And the shape wasn't moving.

He turned wildly, but Roger's father was already issuing orders. "Roger. Go to the Squiremaster…Ah, Francis, I see you've anticipated my request." Francis came up, holding a torch and a knife. He handed the torch to Roger. "Hold that, boy." Then, in the light of the torch, he started sawing at the first knot of rope he saw. Logan grabbed his belt knife and went to work on the other knot, and Roger's father went to work on the third.

They finally got all the ropes cut through. Francis shouted to them, "Steady, now! Bring the boy down evenly, we don't know how much damage he's suffered." Roger's father stared angrily at his son, and Roger dropped his eyes, digging his toe in the dust as the shape in the sack came down slowly.

Logan leaped forward as the sack hit the ground and started fumbling with the knot at what was obviously the boy's head. The material was wet, and smelled awful; Logan vaguely wondered what the boy had eaten, for it to smell so bad when he vomited.

TheJudas Cradle was one of the lesser-used but still ugly forms of torture. The victim would be wrapped in a heavy sheet or sack, and ropes tied around the hands, feet, and sometimes the neck. Then he would be strung up in a tree or a gibbet, and left to swing. With the cloth pressing into the mouth and nose, restricting airflow into the lungs, and the noose around the neck exerting constant pressure on the throat and breathing tubes, sound was almost impossible. Also, with the swaying movement of the body's weight against the ropes, dizziness and disorientation could set in very quickly. With the dizziness came nausea, and the victim would understandably vomit up the contents of their stomach. If the torturer didn't leave enough slack in the portion of sack around the head, the victim could, and frequently did, suffocate in his own vomit.

He finally got the knot untied just as Roger's father got the ropes around the boy's feet and hands undone. Francis took the top of the sack and pulled the cloth off the small boy inside, while Logan held Lee in his arms.

The boy's head lolled on his neck. He was barely breathing, his face almost blue from lack of air. Logan dropped to his knees, ignored the vomit smeared on the small boy's face, and patted one pale cheek. "Hey, kid," he said, his voice rough with fear. "Kid, wake up." When there was no answer, he patted the kid's chest. "Kid, wake up!" Alarmed, he placed the boy flat on his back on the ground, and pressed his hands to the small chest. His hands had to fumble for a minute; there seemed to be something oddly-shaped about the kid's chest, but he barely had time to even think about it as Francis pulled the boy out from under Logan's hands, placed him face-down on the grass, and pressed the heels of his hands at the base of the boy's spine. He pushed upwards, steadily.

The pressure under the boy's ribcage got his breathing muscles working, and the boy suddenly started coughing and spluttering as what looked like a flood of fluids came pouring out of his mouth and nose. Francis stepped back as the boy sat up with Logan's help, and the last of the flood of bile drained from his lungs. Then Lee looked up at Logan, his eyes filled with tears, and started to cry hysterically. "I thought…I was going….to die…the swinging was dizzying…I threw up, there wasn't enough room in there for it all, and I breathed some of it…oh God…I thought I was going to die…" Logan wrapped his arms around the sobbing boy and let the boy cry.

The Duke of Kent turned to his son. "Roger," he said tightly, "Whose idea was this? Not yours, I hope, although we are going to have a talk later about this."

Roger stared at the ground, tears in his own eyes. "I'm sorry, Father," he said quietly. "Nathan was mad that the squire beat him in a practice match earlier today during class. He got me and Stephen to go along with him when he jumped the boy coming out of the stables. We brought him here and hung him in the tree."

"You are not allowed to go running around with Nathan any longer, do you understand?" The duke spoke sharply. "I shall speak to Nathan's father. In the meantime…" He turned to Logan, who was holding an exhausted Lee in his arms, "Sir Logan, I owe you reparation for the way my son has acted. In atonement for harming your squire, you may command him to take up squire's duties while your boy recovers. I place Roger at your service."

Logan looked at the other boy, and shook his head. "He had the honour ta stand up an' tell the truth," he said finally. "I respect that. Punish him how ya will; it's Nathan I'm gonna ask atonement for." He got up, carrying Lee, and strode off toward the castle.

Every head in the dining hall turned as the doors flew open again. Although the meal had mostly concluded, the people in the hall sensed that there was still more to come in the drama unfolding before them, and no one had left the hall yet. Logan set Lee carefully on his feet, and when the boy's legs buckled, Francis ran an arm around the boy and helped him sit carefully on a nearby chair, holding a cup of water. The boy sipped it gratefully where he was, too weak from his ordeal to move much.

Logan strode to the high table, and stopped in front of Nathan, whose face had gone papery white at the sight of Logan's angry eyes. "Nathan of Dashell," Logan said in clear, precise tones that everyone in the room could hear, "I hereby charge ya with the abuse and injurin' o' my squire. I demand that ya place yerself at my service until such a time as my boy can resume his duties."

Nathan started spluttering in anger, but his father beat him to whatever he was going to say. "My boy has better things to do," he said smoothly. "I'm sure a simple apology will suffice."

Logan raised his voice so that everyone in the dining hall could hear. "Respectfully, M'lord, I don't think that'll do at all," he said, keeping a tight rein on his anger. "M'lord, yer son strung my squire up in the oak tree behind the trainee's barracks in a Judas Cradle. My squire is sick, disoriented, and it'd be cruel ta ask him ta resume his duties so soon after such torture. An' as the knight an' adult in charge of the boy, I ask that reparation be made."

The Earl of Dashell rose from his seat. "The boy was just having fun, as all boys do," he said indignantly. "Your squire wasn't seriously harmed. I don't see why you have to interrupt his daily routine for your comfort."

Logan placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. "M'Lord, it ain't about my comfort," he said. "It's 'bout makin' the boy face the consequences o' his actions. If he injures someone, he's gotta learn ta be responsible fer what he's done. An' it ain't the first time he's picked on my boy. He ruins my squire's possessions, and mine too, with stupid pranks. Maybe if the boy spends a day doin' Lee's chores, he'll learn what bein' responsible is. And I resent that insult ya just gave me, implyin' I was doin' this just fer me. Let's settle the matter." The hand on his sword hilt left no doubt how he wanted the matter 'settled'.

The Earl of Dashell turned to the King and Queen. "Your Majesties, I protest this intrusion into my time. I have more important things to do than fight duels with knights over petty matters."

The King rose. "We do not consider this a 'petty matter'," he said gravely. "It has come to Our attention that Our pages have been similarly mistreated by your son, as have Her Majesty's serving maids. We are of the opinion that this matter may best be settled with a duel. Please come to the main audience room."

Francis tried to insist that Jubilee remain where she was, but she wanted to see Logan fight. With an uncomplimentary remark about Jubilee being 'as stubborn as your mentor', Francis helped her into the audience room and placed her in a chair near the center of the room where Logan and the Earl would be fighting. The rest of the King's court ranged themselves around the room, watching as the two men walked into the cleared space in the middle of the room and drew their swords. Logan touched his forehead to the hilt of his sword, saluting the other man with his blade. The Earl didn't even bother, and this elicited a disapproving murmur from those watching.

Jubilee pressed her knuckles to her mouth, staring as the two men crossed swords and nodded to reach other. The Earl swung first, a smooth overhand stroke that Logan parried easily. The sword swung past Logan's middle, turned around, and came back in a high arc that would have taken Logan's head off if he had been there when the blade came down. He was not; instead, he spun past the Earl's sword and took a swipe at the man from the left side, a stroke that slashed the rich burgundy velvet sleeve. Jubilee saw Logan's muscles bunch slightly, and realized he could have ended the fight right there by slashing deeper. He hadn't, and that made her wonder.

She watched him 'dance' around the Earl for a while, parrying thrusts easily, deflecting blows that would have crippled or wounded badly if they had landed. Several times she could see how Logan could have ended the fight, and didn't; she wondered more and more about the purpose.

Finally Logan did sweep in close enough to draw blood from a shallow, superficial slash down the Earl's arm. As soon as he saw the blood, Logan stepped back and held his sword at the rest position. The Earl, understanding the rules, nodded and sheathed his sword, examining the rip in his sleeve as they waited for the King's decision.

"The fight was fair," The king stood on the dais before his throne. "The Earl of Dashell has been fairly bested in combat by Sir Logan. Therefore, it is Our decision that Nathan, the Earl's son, take up the duties normally performed by Logan's squire until such a time as the boy is fully recovered. Is this understood?"

Nathan looked about to protest, but the Earl shot him a look that quelled all protest immediately. The boy bit his lip, and, in the first display of self-control Jubilee had ever seen, bowed to the King. "Squires, I believe, begin their duties at eight in the morning?" Logan nodded. "You will report to Sir Logan at eight o'clock tomorrow morning, Nathan of Dashell," King Richard said sternly. "If you do not, you will face a flogging for disobeying a royal order." Nathan's eyes widened, but he only nodded. Then he spun and left the Hall.

Logan slung an arm across Jubilee's shoulders and helped her stand. By now, the effects of oxygen deprivation had mostly worn off, and she could walk normally, although her legs were slightly wobbly. "Logan?" she asked hesitantly as they made their way slowly up the stairs to his rooms.

"Yeah?" Logan said, looking down at the boy.

"Back there…that duel…you could have ended it a lot sooner than you did. Why didn't you?"

Logan opened the door to his room and sighed as he stripped off his shirt. "I wanted ya ta see what a real duel is like," he said. "I wanted ta show ya how a duel's conducted. 'Cause truthfully, I don't think yer gonna get any taller. Yeah, there's a lot of time left before ya become a full knight, butyou ain't grown much the last winter or so, an' I don't think yer ever gonna get as tall as Duke Gilbert. So I'm gonna start showin' ya what a duel's gonna be like, how yer gonna haveta behave, and what it's gonna be like, so you can get ready. I wanted ta stop it earlier, kid, but I didn't cause o' you."

Jubilee was surprised that he would do that for her. "It wasn't necessary," she said. "I should be okay by tomorrow. You don't need to have Nathan do what I should be doing."

Logan sat down on his bed, and looked at the little boy sitting on the cot in the opposite corner of the room. "Kid, I don't want ya gettin' up off that bed tomorrow unless ya have ta," he said. "Ya need a rest. It's been a hard winter fer ya, with all the harassment and stuff that's been goin' on. An' it'll serve that boy right; he's gotta learn that his actions have consequences, so maybe next time he goes ta sabotage someone's stuff he'll remember how hard it is ta repair that stuff. Now, is there anythin' they've ruined that's gonna need repairin'? 'Cause if there is, give it ta me now so I can take it down ta the stables while ya git changed."

Jubilee grinned. "You need a new girth strap," she said. "And stitching one of those is hard. It's hard getting the needle through the leather."

Logan grinned. "Good 'nuff." He went to the chest of his things, took out his saddle, and left the room with it.

Jubilee sighed as the door closed behind him. God, it was getting harder and harder to restrain her impulses; she wanted to melt into his arms and never let go; she wanted to tell Logan she was a girl and be able to meet him, in bed, the way her body was urging her to. She pulled off her dirty clothes, smiling at the thought of Nathan washing the tunic smelling of her vomit, and slipped on clean clothes before lying down on her cot. Her wrists and neck still hurt a little from the rope that had been tied around them; even with the sack between her skin and the rope hadn't cushioned them enough. She was sure she was going to have raw marks there by tomorrow.

Sighing, she slipped into a deep, dreamless, exhausted sleep.


	18. Going To War

Chapter 18: Going to War

"Think ya got everythin'?"

Logan looked doubtfully at the single bulky pack on the third horse, then down at Lee, smiling in amusement as the red-faced, panting boy tugged down the last strap holding the tent canvas to the pack-horse's back. "I think so," the boy said, wiping his forehead on his sleeve. "Francis gave me a written list of everything we would need to bring. I spent the morning trying to get it all together, and when I went down to the stable there was only one packhorse left. I had to take it, but I had to unpack everything and repack it small enough to get everything you needed onto one horse."

Logan's eyes narrowed as the boy's words sank in. "Everything _I_ need," he said gruffly. "What about what _you_ might need?"

"I packed my horse with my stuff," Lee said cheerfully. "I'm light; my horse can carry me and my stuff." Logan squinted at the small pack on the back of Lee's horse. "Where's yer sword?" he asked. "Not the one I gave you, the one that murdered yer parents?"

Lee sighed. "I couldn't figure out how to carry it along," he said. "I had to leave it back in my chest. Francis told me if I valued it I should take it with me, but I can't. I'll have to take the risk on having it stolen."

Logan shook his head, going over to the pack pony and loosening one strap. "Go an' get it. We're gonna bring it along if I gotta carry it myself. That sword's the only thing ya got ta identify yer parents' murderer, an' if ya want revenge yer gonna need it. Go an' get it, an' we'll see what we can do." The boy scampered off, and Logan commenced to unpack the pony and examine the bundle.

He was surprised. The kid had saved a lot of room by wrapping the tent canvas around the blanket-wrapped bundle of Logan's belongings, saving a lot of space by using the tent itself as a bag, instead of using the heavy sacks the other squires had packed for their horses. It helped that Logan's tent was small, too, and had always been; big enough for two people to sleep in with some distance between them but no space for much else. Some other knights carried tents big enough for three, or even four; space enough to bring a girl or two to share the tent with the knight and the squire. Logan had never been in the habit of doing so; and he knew the boy would feel the same. The boy shared Logan's disgust over the behaviour and attitude of the female camp followers. Logan didn't think women should be on a battlefield at all, given their silliness and predilection for screaming and running when faced with aggression and a challenge. Lee's distaste ran deeper; he hated being pawed over and fawned upon by girls who thought that he was 'pretty.'

He surveyed every inch of the inside of the pack. Clever, that the kid had thought of using the tent to bundle everything in; the tent would keep everything dry, where the sacks provided would not. There was his spare armour, wrapped in his cloaks and tunics; extra boots and shoes tucked close to the outside, where their dirt wouldn't soil anything else; extra clothing stored in the bottom, where they would be out of the way. Only frequently used items were stored in the top of the bundle.

The kid came running up, holding the sword in its scabbard. Logan took the sword in his hands, feeling the weight of it, balancing it in one hand to find the central balance point, then shifted a few items in the bundle around to allow the sword to slide into the top of the sack, the hilt protruding from the opening at the top. He looked at the hilt again casually, still unable to place where he'd seen the pattern on the sword hilt before, but not having the leisure to think about it again. Not as if he'd have had any better luck, either; he'd spent enough long winter nights pondering the insigne on the hilt of the sword and still had no answer. "There," he said, helping the lad lift the bundle up onto the packhorse's back and tightening the straps down on the one side while the boy did the other. "Now all o' _our_ stuff's going."

Jubilee smiled brightly, deciding not to tell him just how much of her own things had been left behind. She'd spent time packing all of Logan's things, yes, but she'd spent just as much time agonizing over what she needed and what she wanted. The pack on her horse, with her things, held her padded sleeping blanket with the rags for her monthlies sewn into the lining; her spare cloak had been likewise sewn in over the blanket. She'd packed two changes of fine clothes, one in Logan's gold and blue colors and one in the red and gold of a squire in the service of a knight whose oath was sworn to the King and Queen, two changes of the plain dark blue clothes they would wear while actually traveling, her spare boots, a pair of soft shoes, her red cloak, belt, and regular sword. There hadn't been room for anything else; she wore her blue and gold uniform for the assembly and ride through the city, but once out of the city and stopped for the night, she would shed the finery for the plain blue clothes suitable for road travel. And it wouldn't be any too soon; the dress clothing she wore might look fine, but the high collar was uncomfortable, and the thick weave allowed no air in beside her skin.

Finished with their packing, she turned and looked at her fellow squires with their knights. The entire field behind the castle was bustling with activity, as close upon a thousand knights gathered and packed for the week-long journey to the border. Those knights who didn't have their own squires were doing their own packing, and not having a good time about it. She turned to Logan. "Logan?" she asked. "Would you mind if I went and helped some of the other knights who don't have squires?"

Logan grinned and ruffled the boy's hair. "Sure, kid," he said. "That'd be nice of you." He could still remember vividly the days when he didn't have a squire. Life with a squire was definitely easier without one; and Lee was the best one he'd ever had. He gave the boy a shove in the direction of Sir Vincet, who was struggling to buckle the girth on his pack and hold the load on the horse's back at the same time. The horse wasn't helping, either; he had sucked in a breath, and was holding it with his sides ballooned out. Sir Vincet was cursing the beast.

Jubilee came up on the horse's other side, and swung a fist on the horse's glossy ribcage. The horse, surprised at this sudden attack from an unexpected quarter, let go of the breath he was holding, and she grabbed the pack to hold it steady. "Tighten the girth quickly, Sir Knight," she said, suddenly realizing she didn't know this particular knight's name.

Vincet looked up, startled, from where he was bent against the horse's side, but didn't see a head. There was, however, a pair of short legs firmly planted on the ground on the other side of the horse. "Obliged to you, lad," he said, and with a final grunt he cinched the strap around the recalcitrant horse. "Thank you, lad," he said kindly, as the legs walked around the horse and showed them to belong to the little squire Logan had taken under his wing. "Lee, is it?"

The boy nodded. "Sir Logan and I are done our packing, and I decided to see if any others needed help." As the boy spoke, he was buckling the bridle with deft, sure hands, making sure the blanket was draped correctly over the horse's back, and that the royal crest was clearly visible on the horse's rump. Those small details attended to, he picked up the sword and scabbard from the ground and held it out to Vincet.

Vincet took the sword, smiling at the boy. So helpful, and so cheerful. And those blue eyes…Vincet grinned into those bright blue sapphires. "Thank you, lad," he said. "If I have a need for other help I'll let you know, if you're free?"

"Sure," Lee grinned cheerfully, bowing to the knight. "As long as I'm free." He turned, surveyed the field, and headed off toward another knight who was having trouble balancing the load atop a prancing horse.

"Here, boy!" came a call, and Jubilee spun, ready to go and help, only to find it was Julian who called. "I need help!" She briefly considered walking away from the other knight, but the man's things were strewn all over the ground from a sack whose mouth had come untied, and a look showed him far behind everyone else. And she was supposed to be a squire, after all, obedient to the will of any knight. Reluctantly she headed for his packhorse.

A great many of the things in his pack didn't make sense. There was a long coil of rope, extra food, rags, and extra clothes. She was about to point out to him that those things weren't necessary, but his closed expression invited no criticism, and so she bit her tongue and set about the packing. A single knight, unpartnered by a squire, was permitted one packhorse; partnered knights were allowed two. The rule was left mostly up to the individual knight's honor to obey; Julian clearly had not. If he had she wouldn't have had to choose what she would leave behind, because she would have had a packhorse of her own. His first packhorse was packed and ready; his second one had been the troublesome one. Jubilee repacked everything and tied the sack securely, wondering at half the things in there; she could see no reason for the coils of rope or the extra clothes and rags. Still, if he wanted them, let him have them. She hefted the sack onto the packhorse's back, keeping the lead rope tightly wound around her wrist, and cinched the pack tightly onto the horse. Julian watched her critically, giving a sharp order here and there (which she basically ignored). When it was all on the horses, she gave a short, curt bow that was not deep enough for true respect and just deep enough to pass for courtesy, and headed back across the field to Logan.

Julian watched the boy go, admiring once again the straightness of the boy's back and the gentle outward curve of the boy's posterior. The boy had been efficient, Julian had to give him that. All of his stuff was packed now, even the extra sack of items he'd need to take his captives two days into enemy territory. He'd seen the question in the boy's eyes at the extra rope and other equipment, and thanked God that he'd had the presence of mind to pack the shackles for the lad in his bedroll. He reached down and felt for the lump of hard metal inside the bedroll, smiling secretly. Good iron, smooth, with locks that would be extremely hard to pick.

_I want that boy!_ Julian snarled angrily, hunger for the boy's flesh setting his body aflame. Across the field, he saw the kid mounting his horse smoothly, reining it in beside Logan's, and leaning out of the saddle to give the straps on the pack horse's pack one last tug, to make sure it was secure. Julian stared at the slim wrists, imagining what they would look like with his shackles on them, imagined the boy's cries as Julian used him savagely after months of wanting, _needing_…

"Daydreaming?" came a harsh voice from his side, and Julian looked down, to see Duke Gilbert standing beside his horse and looking quite amused. Julian leaned down and hissed, "What are you doing here, you're a noble, you're not riding out with the King…"

"I volunteered to escort the Queen here to see the King off," Duke Gilbert said, his voice oily with satisfaction. "If I stop to talk to some of the brave knights, it won't be remarked on." He lowered his voice. "You understand how this is to go?"

Julian nodded. "I capture Logan and the boy in the heat of battle, take them away to Gallas's fortress. He questions Logan there while I play with the boy. Once Gallas gets the location of the King from Logan, he'll send his own knights to capture the King, and the war will be over. He'll take the King back to his castle and threaten to harm him before the Queen with harm if she doesn't abdicate the throne. Of course the Queen will comply; they say she's madly in love with Richard. Then Gallas takes the throne and the King and Queen are placed in the dungeons. I get granted land and a dukedom, with a palace in which to enjoy my new acquisition, and you get to rule Gallas's former lands." Julian's eyes strayed back to the squire, who was now clashing swords in a mock battle with Logan as their horses pranced around each other, caught up in the excitement of going out to war. "Either way, I still get the lad."

Gilbert snorted. "Yes, you boy-loving fool, you get the boy. What this obsession is with him, I'll never know. You want him. The serving maids want him. The Queen still invites him to her chambers. I don't understand. I don't see anything special about him."

Julian shrugged. The Duke nodded to him as he stepped back. "Very well, then, to each his own. I want power; you want a boy. So be it. I'll await you and Gallas with the King as a prisoner here, and I'll keep an eye on the Queen so she does not suspect anything. Go well, Julian. Luck be with you."

Julian grinned and tied the lead rope to his first packhorse to the back of his saddle. Lee had already tied his second horse to the first horse; all he had to do now was wait for the order to mount up; and in the meantime, he could eye the boy, knowing that soon the boy would be his. He smiled at the thought.

"MOUNT UP!" The King's herald called, using his considerable vocal power to cut through all the noise and chatter of the preparations. Those who were not going, like the Queen (who had been lingering by the King's side) stepped back. Wives stepped away from their husbands, serving maids shed a last few tears over the squires and younger knights before retreating to the castle, and the knights all mounted. Those who wore the red and gold livery of the King's Guard rode to the front of the lines, to stand beside the King; the King's Knights fell into three orderly columns behind the King and the King's Guard, and the other knights followed them. Jubilee stayed close to Logan's horse's rump, leading the packhorse as they got into line. Then she tied off the rope to her saddle, gathered up the reins, and waited for the order to move out.

At the head of that long line, King Richard turned and surveyed the assembled knights. "The endgame begins today, my brave knights!" he bellowed, his voice carrying across the field in the hush. The only sound was the stamping of horses and the snapping of the royal pennant and the knights' personal standards in the breeze. "We will meet Gallas in battle one week hence at the border, and we will crush him! This long war will finally be over! After a long winter, my people, spring has come, and we shall be back by summer! So let us ride onward, and finish this war!" A swell of cheering followed his announcement, and as he turned his white horse and started walking out of the field, past the palace and on through the city, the knights fell into file behind him.

Jubilee met the Queen's eye across the milling horses and riders. The Queen looked worried for the King, and there were tears in her eyes, but she waved bravely to Richard, and then tipped her head, very slightly, to Jubilee. Jubilee, unnoticed by anyone else, pulled the Queen's signet ring from under her shirt and held it up on its leather thong. The Queen's eyes picked up the glitter of the ring, and nodded again, then was lost to view as the flood of humans and horses carried Jubilee along past the Queen and out the palace gates to the city.

The streets were lined with people waving the King and his knights off. Jubilee stared around her as the townsfolk cheered and waved all of them, throwing handfuls of flowers and flower petals before the King. Maidens milled around, waving handkerchiefs, and Jubilee saw not a few knights reach out to grab the bits of brightly-colored fabric, tying the bits of cloth around their arms and kissing the hands of the girls who offered them. Jubilee felt a sudden tug on her saddle blanket, and looked down to see a stout, red-faced woman trotting along at her stirrup. "So young, lad," the woman said, reaching into her basket and grabbing for a fruit-filled sweet pastry and pressing it into Lee's outstretched hand. "Eat that, there, it'll bolster your courage. And take care of your knight!" Jubilee waved back at her as she rode on past the woman, and stared at the tart for a moment, tears pricking her eyes as she smelled the early mulberries and spices that went into the making of it. For a moment she wasn't sitting on a horse in the King's vanguard, she was back in the wagon with her parents, accepting sweets from the kindly baking women in the villages they passed.

Logan turned in his saddle, saw the boy's forlorn look, and bit his own lip. How many of these men riding today would not be coming back? How many knights would never come back, how many shields and swords would they be bringing back for the women to grieve over? And what about this boy behind him, would he becoming back too? Would the boy live to reach his eighteenth birthday, and knighthood? Logan almost changed his mind and told the boy to get out of the parade, to go back to the castle, but the boy dashed away his tears, bit into the tart, and continued to smile and wave at the gathered populace, never noticing Logan's gaze. Logan straightened in his saddle, facing forward determinedly. So be it. The boy had as much right to fight for his King and kingdom as any other knight and squire here. Logan would do his best to keep the boy safe, and hope that God would hear his prayers and allow the boy to come thorough the coming battle unscathed.

He'd do his damned best to see that the boy came back alive.


	19. River Rescue

Chapter 19: River Rescue

They came to the river that bisected the kingdom a day later, and found that the spring floods had rendered the bridge unsafe. Maybe it would be okay for one or two horses, but the timbers that held the bridge up were groaning from the force of the water pummeling them. The King reined up, and his knights did the same, ranging along the bank as they watched the roiling water and waited for the King's decision.

Richard turned to the young shepherd who had told them about the bridge. "There is no other bridge?" he asked the man.

The man shook his head. "No, my lord King. The only other one that crosses this river is three days' travel downstream that way," and he pointed to the King's left, "And there's them as says that's none too safe either."

Richard sighed and stared at the roiling water, and the slim little construction of wood and rope that spanned its width. "Remind me to allocate some additional funds from the Treasury for the rebuilding of the bridges," he murmured to the Weaponsmaster, by his side. The man gave a sharp nod, then said, "What shall we do, Your Majesty?"

Richard squared his shoulders. "The shepherd says it's been safe so far for small groups of people, or one wagon at a time. A wagon would be about equal to the weight of three horses. Let's cross here, three horses at a time." The Weaponsmaster turned to speak to the herald behind him, and the man began to spread the word down the line.

Jubilee blinked as Logan and the knight in front of him conversed quickly with the herald before the man moved on. "What is it?"

"The King says we've no choice but to cross here," Logan said grimly. "The herald says the shepherd said it's been safe so far for the wagons and groups of people, so Richard's going to risk it. We're going to go across in groups of three horses each." The boy's face went white, and he bit his lip.

Logan studied him carefully. "You don't like water."

Jubilee shuddered. "I was on a bridge like this once, when I was very young," she said. "It collapsed under me, and I fell into the river. I almost drowned. I never liked water since. This," she gestured to the white water, "Scares the hell out of me, frankly."

Logan leaned forward and patted the boy's shoulder. "I'll cross with ya," he said cheerfully. "You an' me an' the pack horse makes three horses, so it oughtta be all right. An' let's wait till last, maybe watchin' everyone go first'll help." Jubilee shot Logan a grateful look, which wasn't lost on the knight. The boy was really scared.

King Richard went first, with the Weaponsmaster and the herald. The King's Guard went next, three by three; then the King's knights. Logan hung back when their turn came, gesturing the others to go first. Julian stood beside him, watching Vincet and two other knights cross, and said to Logan, "You're coddling the boy, Logan. He scared to get his feet wet?"

Logan growled at Julian, "Shut up. Kid nearly drowned when he was little. I don't blame him fer bein' scared. Get your butt over that bridge before I kick it over there." Julian went.

Slowly, the rest of the knights went over, and then the wagons went over. One at a time, of course. The Cook's wagon, the wagon for the camp followers (some of the girls got out and ran across the bridge themselves, not wanting to trust all of their weight in the wagon atop those groaning timbers). The supply wagon went over next, then the wagon with extra weapons and armour for the knights. Finally, only Logan and Jubilee were left.

"Okay, they all went over, an' nothin' happened." Logan turned to Lee. "Come on, kid, nothin' t'be scared of. I'm right here, I ain't gonna let nothin' happen ta ya. Let's go." He rode his horse out a few steps onto the bridge. "Don't look down, now." Jubilee caught herself starting to look down at the white water she could see between the gaps in the bridge's boards, but at Logan's gentle admonishment she returned her gaze to the air between her horse's ears. The horse took a step forward. "All right. Go, then." Logan let the boy precede him on the bridge, since he had the pack-horse to lead as well. He brought up the rear, shouting encouragement to the kid, until the horse's hooves touched the bridge on the other side. Lee turned and flashed Logan a brilliant smile, happy that he'd gotten across. Logan grinned back. "Good," he said, starting across the bridge himself.

He was almost to the other side when it happened.

A tree upstream had fallen into the river, and been carried along by the current. It flew along the surface of the water, careening wildly, knocking everything in its path over with a crash. When it got to the bridge, it slammed into the supports of the bridge, smashing through the rotted wood like a battering ram through a city gate. Logan's horse heard the splintering crash, the shrieking of rotting wood, and reared. Logan, paralysed by the sound of breaking wood under his horse's hooves, didn't grab onto the reins tight enough to keep from falling over, and as his body struck the bridge the horse bolted safely to the other side.

The next moment the bridge listed sharply to the side, and Logan just barely heard Lee's scream of terror as he fell into the raging river.

He tried to keep his head as he fell into the water, but it was so _cold_! The season had not been advanced enough to really warm the water, and with the bulk of it coming from snowmelt in the mountains to the north, the water felt like needles of ice pricking his skin. He lost a lungful of air in the gasp of shock as the cold penetrated his clothes, and clawed his way to the surface to replenish the air. He just barely got a gasp in before the current dragged him under again.

He fought the current, trying to make it to the shore. The current was strong, but he was making some headway when suddenly a timber from the bridge smacked into him broadside. He lost his breath entirely from the impact, and when the rap in the ribs was followed by a blow to his head, his body went limp as his consciousness receded.

Jubilee screamed in terror as the bridge collapsed. She barely noticed the terrified, riderless horse go plunging past her, so intent was she on the dark-blue figure falling into the roiling water. "LOGAN!" she screamed. "LOGAN!"

Ten feet below her she saw his head break the surface, thick, wet black hair plastered to his skull. He took a gasp of air before the current pulled him back down, and she could just barely see him under the surface. Several of the other knights were throwing ropes in the water, shouting at him to grab on, but he didn't hear them, and he didn't see the ropes. They were all too short anyway. She thought about the long coil of rope in Julian's pack, and spared a quick glance behind her. She couldn't see him. "Save him!" She cried to the two knights standing on the bank with their ropes trailing in the water.

"We can't go in there," the knight shook his head. "It's too cold, and the current's too strong. We can't save him."

"You have to!" Jubilee stared at them wildly, then at the water below. She was afraid of that water. Even though she'd learned to swim later, she was still afraid of it. But Logan was in there…and then she saw the floating beam from the bridge slam into his ribs. His mouth opened in a cry, underwater, losing precious air, and then another chunk from the broken bridge struck him on the head. He sank like a stone.

She started running, barely realizing what she was doing, hearing but not really listening to the voices behind her calling her back. All that mattered was saving Logan from the river; if he didn't make it, she would die. She loved him. Loved him enough to jump into an icy river for him.

She never stopped, just took a deep breath in mid-stride and dove into the water where she had last seen him. It was ten feet to the water's surface; the impact was enough to knock the breath from her, and the icy cold made her gasp. She gritted her teeth and opened her eyes underwater, searching for a figure in blue. If only he'd been wearing his dress uniform, with the yellow trim, it would be easier to find him! She searched the water, fighting the current and came up for a gasp of air before diving underwater again.

On her third dive she was blindsided by a huge beam. It swept her under, and she lost some of her precious air in a scream of pain as she stuck the river bottom. The current swept her along as she tried to fight tears of pain from the impact of her leg against the submerged rock, and suddenly the breath rushed from her as she was slammed against something else. She tried to fight her way free of the floating flotsam, to get to the surface for air, and suddenly as her fingers flailed with the weight against her body, she felt cloth, soft and yielding, and something fine tangling in her fingers. She opened her eyes, and saw him. Logan. The fine stuff was his hair, and the cloth was the shoulder of his tunic. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled.

He seemed to be stuck on something on the river bottom; and when she looked again, she saw that a beam from the bridge had gotten caught between two rocks, and Logan's body was draped over it. Praying she had the strength, Jubilee grabbed him and lashed out with her foot. Once, twice. The beam held. _Damn you!_ She thought furiously. _You're not taking Logan from me! I'll die with him if you don't let him go!_ She kicked at the beam again.

Afterward, she'd never know if it was the beam that broke, or if the rock she was braced against shifted and released the beam. But suddenly Logan was free, and she kicked for the surface, where she gasped a deep breath of air, then blinked the icy water out of her eyes to see where everyone was.

Up on the bank, Vincet saw the two heads break the surface. "There!" he cried, pointing. "There they are! Throw the rope! Throw it!" George threw it, and missed. Vincet growled in anger, and grabbed one end of the rope, tying it around his waist. His home was north of here, in the mountains; everybody who lived in his village was experienced with water rescues. He handed the other end of the rope to George, gasped out, "Hold this! Pull it when I have them!" and then he dove into the frigid water after the two dark heads.

His dive was straight, and true. He had jumped out instead of down, and the arc of his dive carried him just upstream of the struggling pair. He went limp, let the current carry him to the small lad carrying the unconscious knight, and wrapped his arms around both. The boy was so light he was hardly a burden to Vincet; Logan was the dead weight. Vincet, however, could feel the slight rise and fall of the other man's heaving chest, and knew Logan was till alive. So was the boy. Now he had to get all three of them to shore. "Pull!" he shouted as loud as he could to George on the bank. George didn't hear his words over the water, but as soon as he saw that Vincet had Lee and Logan, he started to haul backward on the rope with the help of several of the other knights. Even the weaponsmaster dismounted and grabbed the very end of the rope, helping George haul the three wet figures from the icy grip of the river. Once all of them were on the muddy bank, Lee collapsed next to Logan, and the Weaponsmaster hurried down the steep bank to the narrow strip of dirt beside the river, dropping to his knees beside the two still forms. "Logan!" he called urgently. "Logan, wake up!" He turned the man over on his stomach and started to pound his back, trying to drive the water from his lungs. "Logan, damn your stubborn hide, wake UP!"

Logan returned to consciousness with an angry voice in his ear and what felt like a gallon of icy water flooding from his mouth and lungs. He coughed and choked on the water, gasping and hacking until his lungs expelled all the water, then sat up. "Damn, ya don't gotta hit me," he grumbled, rubbing his temple, where a sizable bruise was forming. "What happened?"

"A log slammed into the bridge and it collapsed," the Weaponsmaster said grimly. "You went in, along with the pieces of the bridge. If your squire and Sir Vincet hadn't gone in after you, you'd be dead."

Logan blinked. "Lee? But…the kid's scared of water!"

"Apparently not scared enough to keep him out of it while you were in it," Vincet said, sighing as he knelt beside Logan. "He jumped in after you, found you underwater trapped under a beam wedged between some rocks, and got you free and pulled you out. You owe him your life, Logan. If he hadn't gone in after you, by the time I got there, you'd have been lost. No one else wanted to go jumping in there after you."

"Where…" Logan turned his head and saw Lee, lying bedraggled and still on the dirt spit beside the river. "Lee!" He scrambled over to the prone figure, whom everyone had forgotten in their concern over Logan. As Logan crouched next to him, the boy's eyelids fluttered. "Logan?" came the weak, thready voice.

"Yeah, kid," Logan bit his lip. The kid was muddy, dirty, his hands, face and arms scratched and bruised from fighting with the various floating objects in the water; but to Logan, at that moment, he was the most beautiful person in the world. "They say ya jumped in ta save me." His voice was husky.

"I…couldn't let you die," the boy said weakly, reaching up to grasp Logan's hand. "I …lost …everyone…I ever cared about…once…I couldn't…let fate do that to me…again." His voice trailed off as Logan clasped his hand.

"I owe ya a life debt," Logan said, his voice raspy with emotion. "I swear ta God above, I will always be with ya, yer protector an' mentor, an' friend, fer as long as it takes fer me ta return what ya gave me. Sworn and witnessed."

"Sworn and witnessed!" The Weaponsmaster, Vincet, and George exclaimed in unison.

Logan stood shakily, his legs still rubbery from his near-brush with death, and bent over to help the boy to his feet. Life debts were serious things, for knights. Usually only sworn between two knights who had been friends for some time, it could also be used to acknowledge that one person had saved the life of another. Those present had heard it sworn between two knights, a knight and a noble, and in rare cases, a king and a knight; they had never heard it made between a knight and a squire, especially a squire as young as Lee was. That didn't mean it couldn't be done, or that it wasn't as binding as it was between two equals. Whatever happened, Logan and Lee were now inextricably bound together by a solemn sworn oath, and witnessed by two knights and the King's weaponsmaster. If Logan ever tried to cast the boy off, or violated his life-debt before it was discharged, the three men would be honour-bound to defend the boy by crossing swords with Logan. And Logan knew that these three knights were at least his equal, if not better, than himself. If he violated his oath, he would die at their hands. And it would be only what he deserved. Oathbreakers did not belong in the King's Knights.

Lee leaned heavily on him as they climbed the slippery, steep bank up to the road, where the King and the rest of the knights waited. Logan knelt before the king, indicating Lee should do so as well. The boy knelt, slowly, and the King dismounted and touched Lee's wet, dark hair. "You have saved the life of one of my knights, and I am beholden to you," he said. "Anything you wish, anything you want, ask. If it is in my power I shall grant it to you."

Lee looked up, but his eyes seemed to have trouble focusing. Finally he gave up. "I just…need rest," he sighed. "I'm so tired, oh God…" And his legs gave out, and he collapsed on the dirt there in front of the King.

Logan carefully lifted the boy in his arms, and tipped his head to the King. "Your Majesty, can I ask that we halt progress fer the day? I gotta admit I'm sorta tired too."

"I believe we all are," Richard looked up at the setting sun, and then around at the field on their side of the river. "Yes, we will camp here tonight. Do you need help putting your tent up so the boy can rest?"

Logan smiled wearily. "No, I think I might be able to get the tent up myself. Might want someone ta save us some grub, I bet the kid's gonna be hungry when he wakes up, though."

"I shall have the cook set aside a portion for you both," the King said. "Now allow me to inform everyone else that we will be stopping for the night." He turned his horse and rode away.

Despite Logan's protests that he could do it for himself, the Weaponsmaster and George both got his tent up and the sleeping rolls for both of them set up inside. Logan put the boy down on his bed, then collapsed onto his own blanket with a weary sigh. In moments he too was asleep.


	20. Sir Vincet

Chapter 20: Sir Vincet

Jubilee woke later that night. Everything was quiet. The camp had gone to sleep a while ago, and all she could hear now was the call of night birds, the snuffling of the horses picketed outside the tent, and Logan's snoring.

She rolled over and winced at the ache in her ribs. She remembered being slammed against the boulder on the river bottom, and gingerly reached down to her side. There was some swelling, and she'd probably feel bruised and battered for a while, but nothing was broken. She felt a surge of relief.

She looked across the tent at Logan, snoring in his bedroll, and again felt relief that he was alive. That first horrified moment, when the bridge had collapsed and he'd fallen in, she had thought she'd lost him. And when she saw him lodged under that beam at the bottom of the river, so still and unmoving, she had felt her heart sink into her feet, thinking he was dead. Now here he was, alive, and tears pricked her eyes. _Thank you, God_, she thought fervently in the darkness. _I don't know what I'd do without him._

Getting up from her blanket, wincing at her stiffness, she leaned over him, looking at him. His face was a little bruised, and there was a shallow cut on his cheek probably from a branch, but otherwise he looked all right. She reached out gently and ran her hand lightly across his back, feeling firm, warm skin under his tunic. The touch reassured her, and she sat for a long time, rubbing his back. He was a sound sleeper; he wouldn't wake. She had found that out from sleeping in the same room with him.

She wished, not for the first time, that she could do this for him while he was awake. Instead of restricting herself to touching him when he was asleep, how much better would it be, if she could tell him who she was? If she could tell him how much he meant to her, how much she cared, how much she _loved_ him? How much better would it be if she could dress in girl's clothes, make herself pretty for him, catch his eye and get that admiring glance he gave the prettier serving maids at the palace? To be able to take him outside the palace walls on a picnic, as she'd seen some of the other squires and their girls do. To ride beside him, talking about nothing in particular, to laugh and smile and hug him, to be able to press her lips against his…She had sworn to avenge her parents' death, but was it truly worth it? When Logan found out, would he still care for her, or would he hate her for lying about her true identity?

She dropped her hands, suddenly uncertain and afraid. How would he react? Would he accept her as the companion and friend he thought she was? Would the clothes she wore, and her gender, make a difference to him? Would he react to the lie of her gender with anger? She had heard tales of women dressing as men before. When they were found out they were declaimed as witches and tortured until they would say anything to get the pain to stop, and then they would be burned at the stake. Or they were beaten so severely they later died, or they would be banished, or imprisoned. With the Inquisition only a few decades behind them, the possibility of being burned alive was still a spectre she preferred not to think about.

Well, she couldn't drop the pretense now, not this close to the battlefront. She would have to deal with her growing feelings for Logan after the war was over, and decide then what to do. In the meantime…

She pushed herself up gingerly, trying not to exacerbate her already acute pains. Reaching quietly for her pack, she opened it and took the spare clothes out of her things, then reached into the special hole she'd sewn into the lining of her padded sleeping roll and produced her extra breast band. Quietly untying the tent flap, she stepped out and closed it behind her.

They had made camp a little further down the river, where the water wasn't quite so rough. She knelt by the water's edge, taking a quick look around to be sure no one was watching, and then slipped out of her clothes, stiff from the mud of the river during her earlier rescue. A quick shimmy later, and she was out of the old breast band.

She rubbed her aching breasts as she waded into the quiet water, careful not to go too far out. They were growing again, and the breast band was getting too tight. She cursed quietly; where was she going to find another one, out here? And she couldn't afford one either; the Queen had given her the two she had.

Jubilee sank to her knees in the water, submerging her breasts in the cold water. The shock of the cold water hitting her skin made her gasp quietly, but as she adjusted to the temperature it became comfortable. It soothed the ache, anyway. She sat down on the bottom, feeling cool, water-smoothed stone and fine sand under her thighs, and leaned back to soak her hair, washing the mud and grit out of the strands. She felt the length, and grimaced. It was getting to the point where she would have to trim it again. She wore her hair shorter than was currently the fashion in court, because if it grew long she would definitely look like a girl.

After washing her hair she took a handful of sand and scrubbed at her skin, wincing as the sand touched her bruises. Well, the pack with soap in it was on Logan's side of the tent, and she hadn't wanted to take the risk of waking him up. She was almost done when she heard a cracking twig from the low, dense brush beside the river. She sank immediately under the water, only her head poking up, and called, "Who's there?"

Vincet had only paid a little attention when the boy had left Logan's tent. _Probably hungry_, he thought. However, his interest had been piqued when the boy headed not for the stewpot over the cook's campfire, but the river instead. Wondering if the lad were sleepwalking, he had followed the boy to the river. When the boy had started to undress, he was about to leave, but something stopped him. And when Vincet had seen the tunic come off, and the breast band revealed, he stared openmouthed, forgetting he was supposed to be on guard duty. _Lee's a girl_! he thought wildly.

The pieces clicked into place. There had been talk about Logan's squire's peculiarities, about the fact that the boy had never been seen without his shirt on, how the boy never bathed or swam with the other boys, and how he disliked anyone touching him. It hadn't been tradition, it had been an attempt to hide her gender!

His first impulsewas to run to the King and tell His Majesty about the girl in camp, but as the leggings came off, he froze, caught by the beauty of the girl's form. She was slim-bodied and full-breasted, with lean, lithe limbs, skin that was silver in the moonlight, and narrow hips tapering to strong legs. Vincet drew in a breath. She was beautiful, every man's dream. He stood, spellbound, as she waded into the river and sat down to scrub her skin with handfuls of sand. She gasped softly as cold water touched her breasts, and Vincet couldn't help but notice how the small nubs of her breasts pebbled up in the cold. He looked at her, and wondered how he could have mistaken her for a boy. Desire rose in his body, and he shifted position, trying to ease the sudden discomfort of his breeches.

A twig snapped under his foot, and the girl's head snapped around. She instantly sank into deeper water, leaving only her head above water, and called out softly, "Who's there?" Vincet briefly thought about staying hidden, then sighed and stepped out of the bushes.

The girl eyed him warily. "What are you doing, Sir Vincet?"

He kept his voice mild an non-confrontational as he said, "I'm on watch tonight. Not that anyone would attack us now, but His Majesty wanted to be sure." He squatted by the riverbank and picked up her breast band, studying it. "It looks extremely uncomfortable."

"Put it down, it's mine," came the wary reply. Then, "You saw?"

Vincet nodded.

The girl exploded out of the water, landing beside him and gripping his neck in a tight hold. "Don't shout out," Jubilee said quietly, her heart pounding in her chest. She'd been found out. Now he would go and tell, and everyone would know, and she'd probably be executed… "Is there anything I can say or do for you to guarantee your silence?" She had a feeling she knew what he would say. He would ask her to spread her legs for him to keep his peace, and Jubilee shuddered. She'd do it if she had to…but she so wanted Logan to be her first, as unlikely as that was.

Vincet looked at the girl. _Oh yes_, he wanted to say. _Sleep with me, and I'll keep silent_… but that wouldn't be honorable, and besides, there was something about her that said if he slept with her, it wouldn't be with her as a willing participant. "I shall not say a word," he said amiably, quietly. "My oath as a knight. And I don't require anything from you to keep my word."

The hand around his throat relaxed slightly, but didn't let go. "Why would you do that?"

Vincet looked at her narrowly, then said coolly, "Because you're saving yourself for another, aren't you? Someone closer to your heart."

Her blue eyes widened. "How do you know?"

He smiled at her. A strained smile, but a smile nevertheless. That hand was really getting uncomfortable. "Logan is my friend, too. We went through the training together. I know, better than anyone else, how lonely he is. And since you came, I haven't seen him look lonely or lost. He loves you too, or he would if he knew who you really were." The girl trembled slightly, and Vincet laid a hand on the slim wrist. "Put your clothes on so we can continue our discussion. I'd hate to have to kill any other knight to preserve your secret if someone should come along." The girl let him go and scrambled warily into her breast band, clean tunic, and breeches, and knelt to wash her oldclothing in the river water.

Vincet sat beside her, watching for a moment, then said, "If I may ask a question…"

The girl looked at him. "I don't have a choice, do I?"

Vincet grinned, tipping his head to her. "Clever. But yes, you do. I will keep my silence. I would just like to know…why?"

"Why the disguise?" The girl sighed and sat back on her heels. "Duke Gilbert sent a man to my village. They told us our tithes were insufficient, that we weren't paying our taxes, and the Duke wanted to make an example of our town so everyone else would know they couldn't withhold taxes from him. His men killed everyone and torched the town. I was the only one who escaped. I tried to run after the man who murdered my parents, and I was shot in the shoulder with an arrow. I fled into the forest and passed out in a small copse of trees. When I woke up, everyone was dead." The girl's throat worked convulsively. "I spent the whole next day, digging graves for the people who died. I couldn't bury them all before nightfall, and the next morning wolves were feasting on the remaining bodies. I couldn't fight them all off. I ran. I walked for a week though the forest until I came to a town, and I walked into the inn there and begged for food. Then I fainted. When I woke up Logan was there. He's been there ever since." The girl's voice dropped. "He doesn't know. Please don't tell him."

"Why? Do you think it will make a difference to him?" When the girl nodded, Vincet considered that. "It might," he said. "Knowing Logan's damnable sense of honor, he might take offense at this secret kept from him. However, if he's never actually come out and asked you, then you're not really culpable." He thought some more. "Besides, he's sworn a life-debt to you. He can't spurn you now without breaking his oath. He might get mad at you, but he'll never leave you. Not until he's paid that life-debt back."

"What's a life-debt?" the girl asked.

"You saved his life," Vincet said seriously. "So now he's bound to you, and you to him, until he saves your life in turn. He cannot cast you off, or spurn you, or recall his oath. It's a serious matter."

"So he's bound to me?" The girl sighed. "But he's bound to 'Lee', the boy, not Jubilee, the girl."

"It doesn't matter," Vincet said decisively. He'd never heard of a life-debt promised to one whose gender was as mutable as this girl's, but the same rules should still apply. "He's life-bonded not to the body, not to the name, but to the soul. You are who you are, whether you wear the clothes of a boy or a girl, whether your name is Lee, or…"

"Jubilee," the girl finished for him. "My real name is Jubilee."

"Jubilee then," Vincet said. "Jubilee…George, the Weaponsmaster, and myself heard him swear the oath, and we witnessed it. If Logan violates the terms of the life-bonding, then we will challenge him to a duel for the oathbreaking. If he refuses to acknowledge it, one of us will take the debt and Logan will be stripped of his sword and his title, and cast out of the Knighthood forever. The Knighthood doesn't allow oathbreakers to remain in our ranks."

"Really? You would challenge Logan for me?" Jubilee's eyes were wide.

"If I didn't I'd be foresworn as well," Vincet said dryly. "Besides…I like you. I barely even know you, the first time I spoke two words to you was a few days ago when we left the capital, but I've heard of you, and I've watched you. I have a great deal of respect for you. So yes, I'd challenge him for you if he broke his oath."

Jubilee smiled. "If he doesn't want me, you would take me in?"

Vincet smiled. "Yes. I would." He leaned forward to grab for the other breast band, which had slipped from Jubilee's hand as they sat talking, and caught it before it could drift away downriver. She reached for it at the same time, and he froze as her face stopped just inches from his. He stared mesmerized at her face. This close, her blue eyes were luminous, the pupils huge in the moonlight night. He leaned forward, and pressed his lips to hers gently. She froze for a second, then her lips softened against his, and she kissed him back. They sat that way for long moments, lips twined, and then she broke it off, breathing hard, and snatched up her clothes. Seconds later, Vincet was sitting alone on a moonlit riverbank, still dazed from the feeling of those soft lips against his.

He got up, finally, blinking. He had duties. He couldn't sit there all night dreaming about a girl he'd never have. "Logan, if you reject her when she finally tells you, you'll make the biggest mistake of your life," he finally grumbled as he stood and dusted himself off. "Lucky bastard." He strode off into the bushes.

He saw her the next morning, dressed as a boy again, waiting in line for her share of breakfast. He stepped up into line behind her and Logan to whom she was talking animatedly, telling him about the rescue the day before, with another crowd of knights sitting around them, listening. They hadn't been close enough to see what was really happening. When she got to he part where she'd gotten Logan free, Vincet took over the story and told the rest. Logan hugged the boy again, swearing that Lee had saved his life, and Vincet watched the boy hug the knight back.

As they broke camp and prepared to mount up, he thought again about the girl. Looking at Lee in the full light of day now, without moonlight to soften the planes and angles of the boy's face, he could almost forget that the boy was a girl. But if he looked closely at the 'boy's' chest, he could see the very slight lump of Jubilee's breasts under the band. It wasn't noticeable unless you were looking for it, but it was there.

Then, as they started to move out of the camp, he saw someone else watching the boy. Julian. Vincet gritted his teeth at the cold, calculating expression on the other knight's face. Why was he staring at…oh. Vincet knew about the other knight's taste for young boys. There were several places in the city that catered to such tastes; while Vincet had never been in one, he had heard of other knights who did. Julian was one of them. But Lee belonged to Logan; Julian didn't have a prayer of stealing the boy away, unless something happened to Logan on the battlefield…

Vincet reined his horse to a stop as he stared at Julian. No. It was impossible. He wouldn't do that to Logan and Lee. Would he? He was a knight.

_Yes, a knight who used to be attached to king Gallas's court_, Vincet thought. _And therefore suspect. And I know Julian's a grasping, greedy man. He wouldn't hesitate to refuse to help Logan on the battlefield, and cause him to be injured or hurt if it meant he could get his hands on Lee. And he mustn't do that; if he finds out Lee is really a girl his disappointment will spell death for her. I'm going to keep a very, _very_ careful eye on him._


	21. The Battle Of Argonne

Chapter 21: The Battle of Argonne

Jubilee stood stock-still and stared.

King Richard's knights had stopped at the edge of a great bowl-shaped depression in the ground, a valley tucked in the Argonne hills. On this side of the valley, King Richard ruled; on the opposite side of the valley, Gallas ruled. The small town of Argonne, just behind the knights, had been largely deserted since the beginning of spring. The town folk knew the war would touch their borders, and they also knew that, with Gallas's fortress only a few days' ride away, the war would likely end right here outside their town. Most of the unnecessary merchants and town folk moved away, leaving only essential people; baker, armorer, and tavern-keeper; and of course the Lord of Argonne. Who was only too happy to vacate his own stone-walled house to allow the King and his advisors to move in, and take the money King Richard offered him to move to his winter estates some four days' travel to the south.

Richard took over the Lord's room, and his other advisors sorted themselves out as best they could. Only the king got a room of his own; everyone else shared with another man. The inn/tavern was filled to capacity, and the houses that had been deserted were rapidly claimed by the king's guard. A few select knights claimed the few cottages left, but there was not enough for everyone, and many of them camped on the fields in their tents as they had done while on campaign. Logan, as one of the King's trusted knights, could have taken a small shepherd's cottage for himself and Lee, but chose instead to give it to the camp followers so that the women would have a roof over their heads and not have to ply their 'trade' on the muddy ground. He and Lee slept in their tent.

It was well after dark when they reached Argonne, and too dark to see across the valley to Gallas's encampment, so they had simply taken rooms and settled in for the night. After they had eaten supper, Logan went to the Lord's keep to attend a conference between the King and the other knights while Jubilee sat in their tent and unpacked Logan's armour. She spent most of the night cleaning and shining the metal, and then oiling and cleaning the leather straps that held the armour (some of the more difficult pieces of it anyway) around Logan's body. The leather was stiff with dried sweat, and the stiffness would rub against his skin and tunic and be uncomfortable. A small distraction, but a distraction he couldn't afford. Once the straps were as supple as she could make them, she wrapped the armor up in his red and gold cloak, made sure the red and gold pennant was correctly affixed to the standard pole above Logan's own yellow and blue standard, then set all of their things aside and went to Vincet's tent to do the same for his armour.

Since the night he had caught her bathing and discovered her identity Vincet had taken an interest in her. Logan hadn't been adverse to his squire spending time in the other knight's company; in fact, he seemed relieved. Jubilee wasn't exactly sure why; when she'd asked him, he'd muttered something under his breath about 'having someone to help keep you out of trouble'. He hadn't offered any other information, and she hadn't asked again. Being around Vincet was nice. She didn't have to hide who she was around him, and it was nice having someone call her by her given name again. And, when she was around him, she could take off her breast band, which was becoming increasingly tight and uncomfortable. Vincet was interested in her; she knew that; but he was never less than courteous to her. He had never kissed her again, after that night; but he also made it clear that he was still available if she changed her mind. She smiled kindly, thanked him for his kind attentions, and declined his offers to accompany her to bed.

Now, in the bright morning sunlight, she helped Logan get his armor on. Her small hands could reach under the armour plates and tighten leather straps holding the breast and backplate together; could reach in and tighten gauntlets and vambraces once they were on his hands and arms, giving him the extra advantage of having snugly-fitting armour; and the supple leather straps and buckles curved around his body with no trace of stiffness. He saw Julian jerking his shoulders to ease the itch of his leather straps, and smiled grimly to himself.

He looked beside him, at Lee, who was buckling his own armour of hard, boiled leather, and at Vincet, who was watching Julian with the same amusement. Julian happened to glance up at them both at just that moment, and saw them sitting perfectly at ease in their saddles. He shot them a sour look, wheeled his horse, and headed off toward the far end of the field overlooking the valley. Logan grinned at Vincet. "Bet he wishes he'd been nicer," he said.

Vincet watched Julian's retreating back. "His loss," he said grimly, staring at the other knight's back. "I'm not worried."

Logan turned to Jubilee. "Squires are kept toward the back of the lines," he said. "You, I want at the very back. You're too small to be any real advantage, and you're just gonna end up gettin' hurt if you try anything stupid."

Hurt flashed in Lee's eyes, hurt and resentment. Vincet bit his lip at the look Lee was giving Logan. Logan saw it too. "Look, kid," Logan said gently. "I'm tryin' ta save yer life here. I don't want ya in harm's way. I don't want ya ta get hurt, or killed. I don't wanna haveta mourn ya. I don't wanna haveta break in a new squire. So stay outta harm's way, an' I'll see ya after the battle, okay?"

The boy still looked miffed, but he nodded and wheeled his horse, heading toward the back of the line. Logan watched him go. "Hope the kid never knows how much that hurt," Logan said grimly to Vincet as the two knights rode their horses forward to form ranks with the others. "Honestly, I'd rather keep him beside me, where I can keep an eye on him."

"He's better off in the back of the line with the others," Vincet told him. "Or better yet, back there with the camp followers. Lee doesn't belong on a battlefield. If it wasn't for that damn promise of vengeance he'd be in some peaceful village somewhere…" he bit his lip and spurred his horse forward. Logan stared at Vincet's back, wondering what the other knight knew about Lee that he didn't. He took a quick look back at the squires milling about at the rear of the field, and felt a strange prickle of misgiving stir the hairs at the back of his neck. This day was not going to go over well, he could feel it in his bones.

But he was one of the King's knights, and the King had ordered him into battle. There was no way he was going to shirk his duty. Logan rode forward to join the swelling ranks of knights.

King Richard sent his herald forward down the hill to the valley floor, with the King's standard over a white pennant. "Gallas!" the herald called, his voice carrying across the valley to Gallas's forces on the other side of the huge grassy bowl. "His Royal majesty King Richard is willing to overlook your previous aggression upon his lands if you turn and leave now, peacefully!"

There was an answering shout from the opposite lines. "King Gallas is willing to grant Richard the mercy of exile instead of death if he surrenders now and abdicates in favor of his Queen. Gallas will then marry Renee and they will unite both countries and rule."

Logan gasped. "Never!" his bellow carried across the field. "The Queen will never consent to marry Gallas!" His shout was taken up by the rest of the knights, all of whom were equally aghast at the idea of the usurper taking the throne.

An arrow shot from a longbow came arching up from the ranks of Gallas's troops, and hung suspended in the air for a moment before coming down, almost lazily. It buried itself in the chest of the King's Herald, and Richard's line watched in horror as the man crumpled in his saddle, then toppled over dead.

Logan stared too. It was a complete disregard for the rules of warfare. The herald had been under a white pennant, a sign of truce. Under the rules, a man under the white flag couldn't be killed.

A shout rose from the knights on Richard's side. "Foul!" they screamed. "Treachery! You disgrace the knighthood!"

Richard's voice boomed out across the field. Although the King wasn't trained to shout like heralds were, his voice was still clear enough to be heard by Gallas's people on the opposite rim of the valley. "He was under a flag of truce. You have shown yourself no true king, to violate rules as you have done. Attack, my knights!"

The front row of knights spurred their horses into a trot, and the next lines followed. Logan was in the third row of mounted knights; two other rows were behind him, and then came the line of squires and foot soldiers. He didn't spare a glance back; he just hoped the boy would obey him and stay back.

The front ranks sped up as their horses hit the valley floor, and almost at the same time King Gallas's forces hit the valley floor opposite them. Logan opened his mouth in a loud battle cry as he saw the other line of knights in the green and blue colors of King Gallas rushing toward them. He raised his sword, slung his shield down to his forearm, and braced for impact.

The two armies met in the middle of the valley with a thunderous crash of swords against shields and the screams of injured horses and men. Logan found himself facing a huge, burly man on a big black draft horse with heavy feathering around its hooves. The man might be big, but he was also stupid and not very fast. Logan feinted to one side, and even as the giant was turning to that side, Logan slid the point of his sword between the gap between the man's backplate and breastplate. The armour had been made for a much smaller man, and left the giant with big gaps where the armour didn't cover him. His face went blank with surprise, and he stared at the sword sprouting from his side before he fell out of his saddle. His momentum pulled the sword out of his side, and Logan wheeled his horse as he turned to face the man behind him. Out the corner of his eye he saw another man in blue and green come up behind him, but he grimly focused his attention on the man he was facing. The voice of the Weaponsmaster echoed in his head; _If you worry about the man who hasn't gotten to you yet you're not going to survive the one in front of you._ Good, sound advice. He watched his opponent carefully, looking for some flaw in the way the man handled his sword, and saw it. The shield was too heavy, and the shield arm was a little weak. When he raised his sword, his shield dropped a little.

Logan dropped his shield a little, leaving his throat unprotected. The man he was fighting saw the open throat, and raised his sword in what was supposed to be a killing slash that would take Logan's head off. It didn't turn out that way. Logan's sword smashed down on the rim of the other man's shield when it dropped, and a slight lean forward drove the blade into the man's throat. The man dropped both shield and sword, both hands coming up to the fountain of blood spouting from his almost completely severed neck. He dropped from his horse, dead before he hit the ground, and Logan turned to deal with another man.

At the back of the ranks, a few green- and blue-garbed men had gotten through, and were doing fierce battle with the squires. Jubilee dropped her reins, grabbed her horse with her knees, and prepared to do battle with the enemy knights who had come this far into King Richard's lines. There were four ranks of foot soldiers behind her, but the point to having mounted knights was to keep the footsoldiers from having to deal with the other enemies' mounted riders. A soldier on foot was no match for a man on horseback. A man on foot might be able to take one onrushing horse with his spear, but the horse right behind the first one would simply mow the foot soldier down before the man could pull his spear free of the dying horse.

The soldier she faced stared in surprise for a moment, then laughed and swept his shield in an arc, trying to sweep her off her horse. "Run home to your mother, little boy," the man said mockingly. "Is King Richard in such need of fighters that he must needs take children still suckling from their mother's tit?"

"I am no child!" Jubilee screamed at him, furious. She swung her sword, and felt it impact against the man's shield. The man's eyes widened, and he brought his sword up just in time to parry another blow from her sword. She traded blows for a time, doing her best to seem clumsy so he would become overconfident. And when he did, she ran him through, her sword finding the hole between his chest and his shoulder, and driving the point of her blade deep into his chest. She turned away, sickened by the sight of the blood on her blade, but had no time to brood over the man she'd just killed because here came another knight in green and blue, and she had to focus on him. This one noticed that her hands weren't gripping the reins, and smiled as he rode forward with his sword sweeping from side to side. She saw his intent clearly; he was going to sweep her from her saddle. It was something of a surprise to him, then, when her horse wheeled around at a touch from her knees, charged at the man, and her outstretched sword caught him neatly in the belly just below the bottom of his breastplate. He stared at her, looking surprised, and fell limply from his saddle with a groan. Dead? Or not? Certainly badly wounded.

She turned and saw another squire, Paul, in heated, pitched battle with another man in green. Riding over quickly, she joined the battle. The other man was good, faster than anyone Jubilee had seen, and Paul was already bleeding from a wound in his shoulder.

The other man might be fast, but he still only had the use of one arm. Jubilee nudged her horse in a circle and came up behind the man, and drove her sword into the back of the man's neck, bringing fast, instant death as she severed his spinal cord. He dropped like a lead weight from his saddle. She wheeled her horse away from the falling body, and as her horse danced aside, she saw the hilt of an ornate dagger in the man's belt. It was inscribed with the sigil of Gallas's kingdom; a great sea-serpent, worked in green enamel on a blue leather hilt with gold finials. It was too delicate, and too precious, to be on a battlefield. Jubilee dismounted, and pulled the dagger from the man's belt. It wasn't a regular dagger; it was a thin-bladed variety normally reserved for throwing. And the only reason a man would have a throwing dagger was…

Assassination.

She grabbed the dagger. "Assassins!" she shouted, pitching her voice high to carry over the sound of battle. "An assassin, trying to reach the king!" Up and down the line, the squires looked up at her, where she held the tiny throwing dagger up. "Hold the line! They must not get past us!" She vaulted back onto her horse, and kicked it into gear, racing halfway up the hill and partway around the side of the valley. On the far side of the valley, she had seen Gallas standing next to his standard-bearer. Drawing her bow from her back and quickly lashing the shining throwing dagger to it, she nocked the arrow to the bow, adjusted her draw to compensate for the weight of the dagger, and released.

The arrow shot straight and true, missing most of the fighting. She had been running at breakneck speed over the sloping ground, and was only a thousand paces away from Gallas when she loosed the arrow. Two of Gallas's bodyguards, seeing the lone rider coming at them with drawn bow, aimed their bows at her, but she ducked, wheeled her horse, and ran, leaving her arrow with the dagger strapped to it quivering in the ground inches from Gallas's knot of advisors. She watched a man pick it up, saw them pull the dagger free, and realized they knew what it meant; the assassin had failed. Gallas turned to his herald, and said something; a second later, the trumpet pealed the retreat for Gallas's forces. A cheer rang out from Richard's forces, and Jubilee let her sword and shield arms drop wearily. In the heat of battle, the weight hadn't seemed like much, but now that her adrenaline level was dropping off, she was exhausted. She turned and rode down to the valley floor, suddenly overwhelmed with concern for Logan. She had lost sight of him; where was he? Had he made it? There were a lot of bodies on the ground, more in green and blue than there were in red and gold…but she rode among the bodies anyway, looking into the faces of those on the ground.

A weak moan from somewhere off by her horse's front foot caught her attention, and she dropped her sword and shield, falling to her knees. "Sir Vincet!"

The knight lay on the ground, groaning. "Lee?" he said weakly, opening one eye. Jubilee reached for the fastenings of his helmet, releasing the straps and pulling it off. Underneath, he looked relatively unharmed, though his face was tight with pain. "Where are you hurt?"

"My…leg…" She reached down and unbuckled the metal shin plates, one of which had a hole through it. "What happened?"

She answered his question as she pulled the cloth of his red and gold uniform away from the wound and made a makeshift field dressing with strips torn from his cloak. "Gallas sent an assassin in the middle of the battle. Paul and I stopped him, and as he went down I saw the throwing dagger with Gallas's sigil on it in his belt. I took it, strapped it to an arrow, and rode a quarter of the way around the valley until I got close enough to shoot the arrow at his feet."

Vincet dropped back with a groan as she finished. "He figured his assassin didn't make it, and he decided he was going to call of the battle until he could regroup. Clever. Leave me, Lee; you've done enough for me. Go find Logan. The last time I saw him he was being beset by three of Gallas's knights, and was already wounded. Find him."

Jubilee leaned in. "Are you sure you're going to be all right?" she asked anxiously.

"Yeah. Go." Jubilee got up, and then on an impulse dropped back down to her knees and pressed her lips against his. "I'll see you later," she whispered, then vaulted onto her horse and rode off to find Logan. Vincet grinned and allowed his head to loll back on her shield, which she had propped under his head, and reached for her sword. He'd give it back to her later. A short sword was hard to replace on a battlefield of mostly full-sized swords.

Jubilee rode on, pausing only long enough to look into the faces of the men on the ground, growing increasingly worried when she didn't find Logan. Behind her, other knights began to gather up their wounded, but when she glanced back, Logan wasn't among them. He would have come to find her as soon as the battle was over, of that much she was certain.

It was only as she got to the end of the red and gold bodies that she happened to look up. Crossing the opposite side of the valley and making its way up the hill was a bay gelding ridden by a figure in red and gold; and behind that figure was another horse, a heavy-bodied black with a limp figure slung over its saddle. Only one knight had a black like that; Logan. And the bay…could be anyone, but from this distance looked like…Julian? She looked behind her, intending to call for another knight to help her, but stopped as she realized they were too far behind her to hear her. Jubilee paused for a moment, undecided, then ran after Logan without a second thought.


	22. Capture

Chapter 22: Capture

Logan had found himself being attacked by three knights at once. The man in front was trained in a different style of fighting than Logan had ever seen; he had two shorter swords, and they flashed out around his body and his horse's head in a whistling, gleaming, deadly arc. Try as he might, he couldn't see a way clear to get under the man's guard to kill him. The man rode in, his swords dancing, and Logan backed away.

Straight into the sword-path of another man behind him.

Logan leaned forward in his saddle to avoid the deadly blade sweeping in an arc behind him, and dropped the reins of his horse in the process. If he was going to have to battle two opponents at once, he might as well see how effective this riding without reins could be. Hefting his shield and gripping his sword, he traded blows with the second man. This man was skilled with a sword; maybe better than Logan himself. He completely forgot about the other man behind him.

His first reminder was a line of fire slicing across the back of his neck, a sword-cut that began to bleed profusely. Logan yelled in pain, the sudden attack causing him to miss a parry from the man in front of him. He got his shield up just in time to catch the blow on it, and swung his sword against his first opponent. But having two opponents distracted him, and the second man's next blow landed against his shield arm, stunning it as the vibrations from the dented shield traveled up his arm. Logan tightened his legs around his horse's girth, and the black responded with a burst of speed, carrying Logan out to the edge of the battlefield before he was confronted by another green- and blue-clad knight.

This man raised his sword too, and Logan groaned as he raised his shield arm. He was tired; he wanted this clash to be over. And he was slightly worried about Lee; from what he could see of the battle, the fighting had been carried all the way back to the foot soldiers' lines.

Another horse came galloping up, ridden by a knight wearing a red and gold tunic. Logan recognized the irregular white splash on the horse's face as Julian's big bay horse, and sighed with relief. Julian would help him.

Across the field came the solemn tones of a trumpet, and the other knight turned, searching for the source of the sound. When he realized it was his side that was retreating, he wheeled his horse and galloped off.

Logan lowered his shield, sheathed his sword, and unbuckled his vambrace, wiping his sweating forehead with his sleeve. "Thanks fer comin' ta my rescue, Julian," he said, blinking as salt sweat stung his eyes. "Thankfully it wasn't necessary." He raised his arm to wipe his forehead again, and with his eyes blocked he never saw the other man bring the hilt of his sword down on his head.

Julian looked down at Logan, who'd fallen out of the saddle and was lying on the ground. Taking a quick look around to make sure no one was watching, he began to unbuckle the armour from Logan's body, tossing it in different directions all over the battlefield. Then he picked up the shorter knight and heaved him over his horse's saddle, mounted his own and began leading Logan's horse up the side of the valley wall and into the treeline.

He never saw Lee following him.

He had taken the precaution of leading his packhorse, the second one, around the rim of the valley to the opposite side, tethering it to the trees there. Bringing his own and Logan's horse to a stop, he then dismounted and dragged Logan off his horse. Opening the pack on the pack pony, he took out one of the coils of rope and quickly tied Logan's hands behind his back, then put him back on his big black and wrapped the rope around the horse and man, tying the unconscious man into his saddle. Then he reached in again, this time pulling out clothing of a nondescript brown and green hue. Dressing quickly, he stuffed his red and gold knights' uniform into the pack. Traveling in peasants' clothes would help him get to Gallas's fortress with Logan, then he'd drop off the knight and come back the same way, donning his red and gold uniform when he crossed back over the border. By telling the king he had been captured in the thick of battle, his absence would be explained, and he could get back into the palace. He'd kidnap Lee, sneak out of the palace with the boy, and drag the boy off to his family's house in the capital city. There was an old dungeon in the bowels of the house; Julian was pretty sure he could keep the boy there with no one the wiser until Gallas invaded using whatever information he got out of Logan. Once Gallas came to power, Julian would take over the lands the usurper granted him in return for service rendered to the state, and he'd take the boy to the lands and live out the rest of his life in comfort, served by his boy slave.

He sighed happily. It was all going according to plan. He mounted his horse and began to lead Logan's horse after him deeper into Gallas's territory.

Logan stirred, groaned. His head ached abominably; his hands were numb, from being tied behind his back; and his nose was buried in sweaty horse mane. He raised his head slowly, blinking the sweat out of his eyes and trying to clear his blurring vision. The sudden movement reopened the wound sliced into the back of his neck, and he groaned again. "What the hell…"

He started to struggle furiously in his bonds, glaring around him as he did so. In front of him was a big bay gelding, and riding it was…"Julian!" Logan gasped as the rider turned around.

"Yes," Julian stopped his horse and turned to face Logan. "Julian. I was the best knight in the King's Knights, at least until you came. I left Gallas to serve in Richard's court because I deserved more respect, more recognition for my skills, than I was getting with him. Then _you_ made knight last year, the youngest knight to ever do so, and I went back to second place. Let me tell you something, Logan; I don't like second place. So I'm eliminating the competition. I'm taking you to Gallas's fortress; you'll be questioned there, as the Queen's spy you should know a lot, right? And Gallas's knights will keep the king occupied here while a small, secret invasion force besieges and takes the capital. Once Gallas has the throne, Richard's life will be worth a fortune to the mercenaries. How many of them do you think will jump at the chance to turn the once-beloved King over to the usurper in exchange for lands and titles?"

Logan ground his teeth. "Julian, you'll pay fer this," he snapped angrily, struggling harder with the rope that bound his hands. "Ya think they're gonna fall fer yer stupid act, ya got another think comin'. When they see ya comin' back over the border…"

"I was captured in the heat of battle," Julian said smoothly. "And I'll appear to be injured. You know what happens to squires who've lost their knights, right? They get reassigned? I'm going to have your boy Lee assigned to me. He'll have to wait on me. It will be so sweet, Logan. And when we get back to the castle, I'll tell the King that I wish to return to the quiet life of a city noble, and retire to my family house in the city with my serving boy."

Logan growled. "Put one finger on the boy, Julian…"

Julian grinned. "You'll be in no position to object, Logan. You'll be screaming in Gallas's torture chamber. You'll probably wish you could change places with the boy. Be easier serving me than serving the torturer."

"When I get my hands on you…"

Julian stopped his horse and dismounted, fishing around in his pack for a bundle of rags. "Idle threats will get you nowhere, Logan," he said dryly as he came up to Logan's horse. Logan struggled, turning his head away from Julian's hand, but being bound, he couldn't avoid the hand that shoved a mouthful of musty-tasting rags into his mouth and tied a length of rope between his teeth to hold the rags in. Thus gagged, they rode onward.

Jubilee clenched her fists and gritted her teeth as she saw Logan's face while Julian was gagging him. How dare Julian treat Logan like that! She wriggled her way out from underneath the bush and continued to follow the two horses through the scrub brush, keeping a careful eye on both Julian and Logan.

When she'd seen Julian stop and pick up the pack horse, watched him change and tie Logan up, she'd known something was terribly wrong with the whole picture. Anger swirled in her mind, but she didn't let her anger control her. She had no hope of facing down Julian for Logan's freedom; she couldn't win against Julian. So she had decided to follow the two knights. When Julian stopped for the night, when he lay down to sleep, she would sneak in, free Logan, and free the big black horse. With Logan unencumbered with armour, the horse would be able to carry both of them back to King Richard's camp.

She just had to follow them until they stopped. Which, from the lengthening shadows in the forest, wouldn't be much longer.

And she was right. Another hour or so later, and Julian halted for the night by the edge of a small clearing, with a stream running through it. He untied Logan's legs from around his horse's belly, and pulled the knight off the horse. Without bothering to remove the gag, he pushed Logan's back against a nearby tree and tied the rope around the trunk, securing Logan to it.

Julian settled against another tree after he untacked and picketed the horses, munching a strip of dried, salted meat he'd brought along just for the purpose. "We should reach Gallas's fortress by midday tomorrow, and I'll be well rid of you." He saw Logan's glance at the dried meat, and at the cup of water he was drinking. He laughed. "Are you thirsty? Hungry? Well, you wouldn't want this anyway, maybe Gallas's torturer will give you some nice, wholesome bread and meat and wine…after you tell him what you know about Richard's plans so we can put an end to this war." Laughing at his own wit, Julian spread his bedroll out on the ground and stretched out. In moments he was snoring.

Jubilee waited until Logan too was almost asleep, despite the pain of the sword wound across the back of his neck and his uncomfortable position against the tree. Then she slipped out from behind the large, old oak tree she'd hidden behind for the last few hours, and tiptoed to Logan. A gentle touch on his shoulder woke him, and she placed a finger against his lips quietly. She grabbed the cup Julian had drunk from, filled it with water from the stream, and untied the rope around Logan's mouth, letting the tightly wadded rag spill from his lips. She held the cup for him, letting him drain the cup, and then went around behind the tree and began to work on the knots. Logan knew he should be silent, but he couldn't help asking quietly, "How did ya know where I was?"

Lee replied, just as quietly, "I've followed you and Julian since you left the battlefield. I was looking for you when I saw him climbing the far side of the valley leading your horse. You were unconscious on him. I dropped my sword somewhere back there; I don't remember where; so I knew I couldn't challenge Julian. I figured I'd have to steal you away." The knots around Logan's wrists came undone, and she dropped the rope on the ground. "Come on, let's get your horse. We'll get back to everyone faster on him." Logan carefully pushed himself away from the tree, tiptoeing as quietly as he could after Lee, who was so light he could drift noiselessly over the leaf litter on the forest floor as if he were a wood nymph.

They got the horse's bridle from the pile of other tack, and Logan bridled the horse quietly, whispering quietly to the horse as he tacked the big black. Lee glided off into the darkness and came back with the saddle. Logan jumped as the boy came tiptoeing out of the darkness.

The black reared, his shrill whinny of surprise splitting the quiet of the night. Julian's horse, and the packhorse beside him, neighed at the sudden sound, and from the direction of the campsite came Julian's startled shout. Logan threw the saddle on the black quickly, trying to calm the horse as he buckled the girth strap, and flung himself in the saddle. Lee was untying the packhorse's tether rope from the bush he'd been tied to, and was scrambling onto the horse's back. Logan, assuming the boy was right behind him, started to gallop off between the trees, when he heard a familiar whistling sound, the thud of an arrow striking flesh, and Lee's scream. Logan spared a quick glance back, and reined his black to a halt.

Julian had had a crossbow loaded and waiting under his pillow. When he saw Lee scrambling onto the packhorse, he had fired without hesitation. The arrow had flown true and pierced the boy's shoulder. The boy screamed, lost his grip on the horse's reins, and fell to the ground, crying out with pain. Julian sprang to the boy, grabbing a handful of the boy's short dark hair and seizing the arrow in his hand. "Logan!" he called to the suddenly silent forest. "I know you're still close enough to hear me. Come back. Come back or I'm going to kill the boy!"

"No, don't! Logan, go!" Lee screamed out through gritted teeth. "You have to warn the King that Gallas plans to invade aagghh!" Lee's words tapered off into a scream of pain as Julian grabbed the shaft of the arrow and twisted the arrowhead inside the wound brutally.

"Hear that, Logan?" Julian shouted into the forest. "I'll kill the boy if you don't come back!" There was a moment of silence. Julian seized the arrow and gave it another twist. Lee half-screamed, half-sobbed in agony as fresh blood stained he back of his tunic, and Julian looked down momentarily, enjoying the look of agony on the boy's face. When he looked back up, Logan's horse was standing at the edge of the clearing, and Logan himself stood beside the horse, his face a mask of anguish as he looked at the tears on the boy's face.

"Grab that rope," Julian said, nodding toward the coil of rope at the base of the tree. Logan hesitated, and Julian twisted the arrow savagely. Lee screamed out again in agony. Logan flinched and hurried to the tree, picking up the coil of rope. Julian pushed Lee to the ground, setting his foot on the back of the boy's neck. "Tie the boy's hands behind him. Don't touch the arrow; I want the boy to suffer." Logan stared, hesitating, until Julian twisted the arrow again. Lee sobbed aloud in pain, and Logan, unwilling to cause the boy any more pain, looped one end of the rope around the boy's wrists. Julian smiled. "Very good, Logan. You're much more obedient than this insolent child here." He grabbed the end of the rope and tugged, causing Lee's arms to jerk sharply and the boy to cry out again. Lee stumbled, sobbing in anguish, at Julian's side until they reached another tree, and Julian pushed the boy to his knees at the base of the tree before tying the end of the rope around the tree and then to the boy's ankles. Lee wouldn't be able to get himself free.

Logan gritted his teeth as Julian grabbed another piece of rope from his half-open pack beside his sleeping roll, and proceeded to tie Logan's hands behind him, then tied his legs and wrapped the rope around Logan's torso. He finished off by tying the end of the rope around the tree, tethering Logan effectively to it, and stood back. "Thought you were going to escape, eh?" he walked over to Lee, kneeling in the dirt with his head lolling. "Thought you were going to free Logan and return, eh?" Lee didn't answer. Julian reached down and twisted the arrow again. Lee's head flew back on his neck, and he cried out in pain. Logan couldn't stand the sight of tears on the boy's face. "Julian, stop it! Stop torturin' the boy, I swear, when I get my hands on ya, yer gonna pay…"

Julian grabbed a handful of the boy's hair and jerked his tear-filled blue eyes to meet his own hard brown ones. "Threaten all you want, Logan. You'll spend the rest of your days in Gallas's torture chamber, and I…" he smiled. "I have the boy now. I have what I want. I don't have to go back. I'll stay in Gallas's court, reaping the rewards of delivering you to him, and enjoying my new toy. Gallas allows people to own slaves in his kingdom, did you know that? Lee will be my slave. A very attractive one, too. Hopefully he'll understand the value of obedience before I'm forced to scar that pretty face, hmm?" He smiled and raised his fist. "The first lesson begins now." The fist descended.

Lee cried out. Logan turned his head away, closing his eyes tight, but he was unable to block out the sounds of fists and boots striking flesh, and a boy's choked cries as he was beaten. Julian didn't stop until Lee lay, silent and still, beaten, on the ground. Julian brought the boy back to consciousness by jerking the arrow cruelly out of the bleeding shoulder, and held it in front of Lee's face. "You call me 'Julian', as if you were my equal," he told the boy. "Now you'll call me Sir Julian, giving me the respect I'm entitled to."

The boy's lips moved, but no sound came out. Julian leaned closer. "What was that?"

The boy suddenly spat in Julian's face. "You've dishonored your vows and assaulted another knight. You shot me in the back. I will _never_ call you 'Sir', you don't deserve the title." Logan stared in disbelief at the kid. After that beating, the boy was still defiant…

Julian's face darkened with rage. "Fine," he said, tight-lipped. "We'll get to Gallas's fortress, and after that we'll see how brave you are." He grabbed a handful of rags and stuffed them in the boy's mouth, then returned to his sleeping roll. Confident that they wouldn't be able to go anywhere, he was soon asleep. Then, and only then, did Lee give into the pain and begin to sob. Logan leaned his head back against his tree, feeling tears prick his own eyes. The prospect of torture was horrible, but thinking of Lee's young body bruised and battered by whatever Julian forced the boy to endure…it was unthinkable.

How were they going to survive what was to come?


	23. Discovered!

Chapter 23: Discovered!

The cup of water Lee had given Logan before he'd untied the other knight helped allay Logan's thirst for a while, but by the time the sun rose completely the next morning he was almost dying of thirst. It was with some relief when he saw Julian stir, groaning at the feel of sleeping on the hard ground, and begin to break camp. "Water," he asked Julian. "Water fer me an' the boy." Lee's sobs had stopped soon after midnight as the pain of his bruises and the arrow wound tapered off to a dull ache, and he sagged limply in his bonds.

Julian looked at the two of them thoughtfully. "When did the boy discover where we went?" he asked Logan. "The truth might get you some water."

Logan licked his parched lips. "He saw ya leadin' my horse with me on it from the battlefield," he said. "Been followin' us since then."

Julian looked at the boy, who was beginning to stir weakly. "So he had no water since the battle yesterday?" He picked up the cup and filled it at the stream, then held it to Logan's lips. Logan drank thirstily, then withdrew his lips and jerked his head toward the boy. "Take them rags outta his mouth an' give him some too. He's gotta need it."

Julian laughed sourly. "The deal was for you. He's my property now, and I'll say when he gets water." Logan stared in horror at Lee, whose eyes were now open. The boy had heard. There was fear in those eyes, but then the boy shut down the expression on his face and replaced the fear with hatred. Logan had to give the boy credit, he sure had guts.

Julian took care of his business right in front of the boy, unbuttoning his trousers and relieving himself. Logan tried very hard not to look, not to think about how much Julian would hurt Lee when he forced the boy into physical service, but Lee had no such luxury. Julian slapped the boy's face when he was done, and then went to Logan, untying him and leading him to his horse. "Get on," Julian said savagely. "Get on unless you want me to shoot the boy again." Logan mounted.

He assumed that, since Lee was light, he'd be sharing the pack pony with Julian's things. That wasn't the case. Logan's horse's reins were tied to Julian's saddle, and the pack pony was tied to the back of Logan's saddle. Julian untied the rope from the tree and unwound the end from around the boy's legs, then tied the end of the rope to his own saddle horn. He mounted, and started his horse walking.

Logan saw the purpose as soon as the horse took three steps. Lee had been kneeling at the base of the tree all night, and his legs had gone numb from the lack of circulation. The horse walked; Lee couldn't. He was dragged along the ground with his arms pulled high up behind his back, forcing him to bend to ease the pull on his wounded shoulder. Logan noticed Julian staring at the boy's backside, still encased in dusty, dirty red breeches. Once or twice Julian pulled his foot out of the stirrup and kicked Lee hard. Logan ground his teeth.

The morning passed this way, with Julian occasionally spurring the horses into a trot just to watch the boy stumble, and then fall and be dragged along over rocky ground as his legs proved unable to keep up with the horse. When he stumbled Julian kicked him; when he fell and was dragged Julian cursed at him and struck him with a switch cut from a branch. Logan saw the boy's head hang lower and lower as the sun climbed higher in the sky, the heat beginning to tell on the boy's strength. When they came to another stream, Julian stopped and dismounted. He drank his fill from the stream as Lee crumpled to his knees, his legs too tired to hold him up anymore, and stared longingly at the cup of water. Julian yanked the rags and rope out of Lee's mouth, and the boy croaked, "Water."

"Say it."

Hatred and resentment flashed for a moment in the boy's eyes for a moment, then he dropped his eyes, defeated. "Sir Julian."

"Say 'please'," Julian's voice was oily with triumph.

"Please, Sir Julian. Water, please," Lee croaked, his head hanging. Logan stared at Julian, rage coloring his vision red. He was going to kill Julian for the humiliation he was putting the boy through.

Julian smiled. "Sure." He filled the cup with water, and grabbed the boy's hair, jerking it backward as he poured the water into the boy's mouth. It was filling his mouth too fast for him to swallow, and Lee spluttered and choked as water ran out of his mouth and soaked his chin and shirt.

Julian sneered. "Can't even drink properly." He shoved the boy's head back, and Lee yelped weakly as his head slammed against one of the horse's legs. The second part of the morning was no better, as they started to ascend the rocky foothills leading up to a valley nestled deep into the mountains. Lee had to work harder to climb up the steep inclines, and got increasingly more battered and bruised as Julian gave up trying to force the exhausted boy to stay on his feet. He simply dragged the boy over the ground, ignoring the sharp moans of pain when rocks and boulders slammed into the small body.

By the time they rode over the last hill and looked down onto Gallas's fortress nestled peacefully in a river valley, Lee was almost unconscious from exhaustion, pain, and thirst. The guard at the gate to the fortress looked askance at the boy being dragged along behind Julian's horse, at Logan's glowering, enraged face, and passed them through as he shouted orders to alert the King.

Julian dismounted in the courtyard and raised his voice. "Gallas! I have your gift from the Duke, for the master of the green serpent!"

There were footsteps, and Logan's eyes narrowed as he saw Gallas, a fat, puffing fool of a man, come out to the courtyard from the living quarters in the back. Gallas looked at Logan, his eyes quickly taking in the sight of the red uniform, dusty after two days and one night of traveling, and his eyes widened. "A gift from the Duke indeed," he said, and Logan's eyes widened. There was another traitor at the castle. There had to be. A Duke. And the Queen…the Queen was alone at court with the nobles. So that was why Julian was so sure a siege would work; he had someone inside the city gates, indeed, inside the castle walls itself, who would throw open the gates and invite the usurper in. Richard would never see his Queen, or his throne, again.

They had to escape. He and the boy had to escape, and warn Richard. But how? One look at the boy lying in the dust at Julian's horse's feet and Logan knew that until the boy recovered they weren't going anywhere. He couldn't leave without the boy. If he left Lee here Gallas would surely kill him, whether he was promised to Julian or not.

"This is Sir Logan," Julian was explaining to the King. "The Queen's spy among the nobles and the knights."

The Queen's spy? Logan bit back the smile. Lee was the Queen's spy. But they didn't know that. And Logan had to keep them from finding that out, because if they found out Lee was the spy, he would be killed. Slowly, and probably painfully. Logan couldn't allow that. He kept his mouth shut.

"Who's this?" Gallas nudged Lee with a foot. The boy moaned at the touch on his shoulder, but made no other sound.

"Sir Logan's squire," Julian smiled at Gallas. "The Duke must have informed you that the price of my cooperation with you was this boy."

"Ah," Gallas said. "Yes, I had heard that. Guards!" He snapped his fingers, and four guards came forward, saluting. "Take the man and the boy to the dungeons. I'll be taking refreshment with Sir Julian, and then we'll be down to interrogate the prisoners. And inform the dungeon master to prepare the torture chamber for these two."

Julian protested. "My King, the boy is supposed to be mine…"

"Oh, he will be, he will be," Gallas said affably. "But I think maybe the knight would be more…forthcoming with the information…if the boy were placed in harm's way, hmm? And I know your tastes, Sir Julian. I haven't forgotten that little incident with the court jester's boy. Do you remember? He might have been a peasant, true, but those kinds of marks on a corpse do raise some interesting questions…" his voice trailed off as the guards hustled Logan and Lee down a set of dank spiraling stairs, going downward until they reached a long corridor with cells on either side.

Lee stumbled along, dazed and only half-aware of his surroundings. Logan, on the other hand, was nauseatingly aware of everything around him. He saw the men and women in the cells, chained like animals, unclothed and covered with festering insect and rat bites. He saw the marks of lashes on the women's bodies, the look of dull terror they cast in the direction of the guards, and he did his level best not to look into one cell where a guard was openly and unashamedly raping a woman on her hands and knees in front of two other guards. He felt a surge of pity for the woman, who was shrieking in agony and promising anything if they would stop using her body in such a manner.

They shoved him into a cell finally, pushing him to a sitting position and shackling his wrists above his head to the cold stone with metal cuffs. They did the same to Lee, eliciting an agonized groan from the boy as the act of raising his arms put strain on the wounded shoulder, then turned and left the cell. The barred door closed with a clang, and they left.

There was a single barred window, high in the wall, and a weak, watery sun filtered down into the cell. In its light he could see the filth crusted on the floor, the original stone covered by dirt and other unnamable substances trodden into the floor by a number of feet. He saw the mold on the walls, and shuddered, hoping the boy didn't contract an infection in that shoulder.

The sun was almost gone when the sound of a creaking door and then shuffling footsteps announced the arrival of Gallas and Julian. Lee, who had fallen into a light doze, stirred weakly and looked up as the door to their cell opened and Gallas, Julian, and three soldiers came in. Gallas looked them over. "Strip them both," he said.

Logan kicked as the first guard approached him. He might not have had the use of his arms, but he did have his feet, and those did plenty of damage. Finally one soldier caught one of his ankles, and the second soldier caught his other ankle. The third man used his knife to slash at Logan's breeches until the seams parted company, and Logan experienced a pang of regret as they were tossed aside Lee had spent so much time repairing them…

The two soldiers continued to hold his feet as the third slit Logan's tunic from neck to navel with his knife, then slashed at the sleeves until Logan was clad in nothing but the linen undergarment around his loins. "Shall we leave him that, Your Majesty?" the guard asked.

Gallas shook his head. "The other prisoners go naked, so will they. Take it all off." Logan's undergarment came off and was tossed into the pile with the rest of his clothing, and he was left sitting against the wall nude. He faced them proudly, trying not to let his nakedness bother him.

Lee kicked out and shrieked as the soldiers turned to him. "Yer Majesty," Logan called, alarmed, "The boy's religious beliefs don't allow fer public nudity!"

Gallas smiled unpleasantly. "All the more reason he should be nude. Continue," he said to the guards. The soldier stepped forward, but Lee's feet were flying too fast for him to get a grip on. The boy struggled, yelling incoherently, fighting their grip, until the soldier finally brought a handful of cloth up to gag the boy's mouth.

Lee bit him.

The soldier cursed, grabbing his bleeding hand, and the second soldier stepped up. He slapped Lee hard across the mouth, sending the boy's head cracking backward against the stone wall. Dazed, the boy just moaned as the soldier pressed a knife to the hollow of the boy's throat and slowly sliced down the tunic.

And to the complete shock of everyone in the cell, including Logan, when the hem of the shirt fell open, sliced apart by the knife, the curves of breasts showed through.

Julian was the first one to break out of his stunned daze. He reached forward, cursing, and ripped the shirt away, exposing full, pale breasts with nipples that pebbled immediately in the cool air of the dungeon. "_HE'S A GIRL!"_

Enraged, he grabbed the knife from the soldier, using it to rip through Lee's breeches. Logan closed his eyes and leaned his head back as the cloth fell away from narrow hips, exposing definitely feminine curves on top and a deep, shadowed v between the pale thighs. Lee was a girl, not a boy. He had lied to Logan.

Lee's head was up now, and his…her…eyes were staring at Logan with a mute apology in them. Logan looked into those big blue eyes, wondering how he could have ever mistaken them for boy's eyes, and gave them a cold, furious glare before turning his head away. "Your Majesty," he said, in shock, 'I didn't know my squire was a girl."

Julian snatched the rags out of the girl's mouth. "So who are you?" he spat. "What's your real name?"

"Jubilation Lee," she told him, defeat in her voice. "My parents called me Jubilee."

Gallas stared. "I have never had this happen before," he said. "Goodness. Julian, do you still want this…squire?"

"Sure," Julian had recovered from his shock, and now his eyes were gleaming as he reached out and touched the breasts. "A girl is just a boy with an extra hole and two more sensitive places to torture." Logan watched as Lee—Jubilee--flinched at his crude words.

"Let's wait and see,' Gallas said soothingly. "Let's see if she can persuade Logan to be more informative. Let's try him first." He signaled to the guards, and said, "Take him to the torture chamber. If he doesn't tell us what we want to know we'll take the girl tomorrow. Not that the girl knows anything, but possibly when he sees her coming back bleeding and broken he'll reconsider keeping any information."

"NO!" Jubilee's head came up, away from the wall. "Please, don't hurt him, please, I'll do anything, but please don't hurt him…" Gallas slapped her, hard, and turned and left the cell. The three guards followed, leading Logan, who refused to look at Jubilee as he left the room.

The door to the torture chamber sat at the end of the rows of cells, and as Gallas pushed the door open, a wave of heat and an almost palpable stench of blood and terror wafted out.

Jubilee's head whipped around as she heard the sound of men's footsteps dragging something heavy along the floor approaching. She gasped and cried out in horror as they dragged in a limp body so covered with blood and bruises that she barely recognized it as Logan. They didn't even bother shackling him to the wall; there was no way this bloodied wreck of a man could try to escape.

"Please!" Jubilee gathered her courage and let go of her pride enough to beg. "Please, I won't try to escape, please free my hands so I can take care of him. Please!"

Gallas, standing outside the cell, laughed. "Go ahead," he said. "She's only a pitiful little wench. Not a real challenge for anyone. And if she can get him cleaned up and recovered a little, we can have more fun with him tomorrow." He gestured. "Jailer! Fetch a bucket of water!"

The guards shoved a bucket of water into the cell with her, and Jubilee went to the corner, picking up some of the torn cloth from their uniforms and dipping it in the water. Working carefully, trying to avoid causing him any more pain, she pillowed his head on her lap and sobbed as she gently wiped the blood and sweat from his torn, mutilated body.

They had tortured him, mercilessly and at length, she saw as she turned him over to clean his back and shoulders. The welts from the whips would leave marks for weeks, and he was going to be in a lot of pain. Stifling her sobs, she continued to clean him. She had to bite her lip as she turned him back over to clean between his thighs and on down his legs and feet, and what she saw made her suck in her breath sharply. She'd long wondered, dreamed, about what he'd feel like sheathed between her legs; well, after what they had done to him, she doubted she'd ever have that particular pleasure.

_Not that I'd have a chance of having him in my bed anyway,_ she thought as she pulled a large piece of his tunic over that part of his anatomy. _I saw his face when he found out…when my breasts popped out of my breast band. He's enraged. I lied to him, and he'll probably never get over that. He didn't_ _even look at me when he left._ She sat there with his head pillowed in her lap as the cool air of night crept into the cell. _Ah, God or Goddess, whoever it is out there, please answer me. In my pursuit of revenge, did I_ _just destroy any chance I had of making the man I love happy?_

But no answers were forthcoming. She sat there as darkness closed in and she could no longer see the man who lay on the floor before her, stroking his sweat-soaked black hair and praying for strength to survive her own upcoming ordeal.

Author's note: If you want to discuss my story with me or have concerns about anythingI write, please feel free to visit my new authordiscussion forums at:  
http/jaenellesfirstc.11. I will post advance notice of new stories before they are posted here, post excerpts to forthcoming stories, brainstorm ideas, and keep my fans updated as to the status of works-in-progress!I hope to see you there! Thank you! ----Jaenelle


	24. In The Dungeons

Chapter 24: In The Dungeons

The jailer woke them the next morning by shoving two wooden bowls of a thin, watery gruel into the cell. Logan, on the floor, groaned in pain as Jubilee gently eased his head off her lap and reached for the bowls. There were no eating utensils provided, so she picked up one bowl, used her fingers to scoop up a bit of the mess in the bowl, and held it to his lips. He groaned again.

"Here," her voice was soft. "Logan, please. You need to eat. If you get too weak and die, I'll be alone. I don't want to be alone here. Please, Logan."

The soft voice gradually penetrated the haze of agony filling Logan's mind. He struggled to make sense of the words, struggled to find the strength to open his eyes and look at the owner of that voice. And as soon as he did, he closed them again. The liar.

He grabbed the bowl out of the girl's hands and painfully dragged himself off to the opposite corner of the cell. She said nothing, just looked at him with sorrow in those big blue eyes. The look in them made him uneasy, and he dropped his gaze down to the bowl. She quietly went and retrieved the second bowl, sat down in the corner of the cell, and began to eat wordlessly.

He put the bowl down when he was done, and she collected it, handing it to the jailer when he came to collect the empty vessels. He stayed there for a few extra moments, looking her body up and down lasciviously, but she ignored him and went back to sit in her corner. After a moment he walked on.

She was quiet for a short time after he left. Then she ventured a timid, "Logan…"

He held up a hand. "I don't wanna hear it," he said harshly, his throat raw from screaming his pain in the torture chamber the day before. "You lied ta me, Lee. You used me. I'll never forgive that. You shoulda told me you was a girl the day ya woke up in my room at the inn. Instead, ya kept it a secret, and ya lied ta me. You told me yer people had 'traditions' about showin' the body, but it was just a way ta cover up who ya really was, wasn't it? Yer so intent on gittin' yer revenge against the man who killed yer parents you didn't care who ya hadda deceive in order ta git that revenge, did ya?" He shook his head. "An' Renee knew all along. S'why she told me ta let ya have yer secrets, why she told me ta keep ya an' not trade ya off ta another knight. Because any other knight woulda made ya perform…personal…services, and you'd'a been found out." He shook his head in disgust, angry at the girl who sat silently in front of him. "And all that time…the care ya took with my tack, the trainin' ya gave my horse, ya kept tellin' me ya cared about me. When ya saved my life ya said ya cared about me. That was just a lie too. You just wanted yer revenge. You used me. Well, you ain't gonna use me any more."

"No!" the girl moaned softly. "No, I didn't, Logan, please, I do care about you, I really do! I love you! I didn't mean to hurt you, I really didn't. When I first woke up and I saw you, I did think maybe you'd be the way I could get my revenge. But then when we spent all that time on the road together, I started to like you, and later when you took such good care of me I started to care for you too. Logan…I love you. Please."

Logan rolled his eyes and stared at the stone ceiling. "An' I'm supposed ta believe that, on top of all the other lies ya done tol' me. Yer a liar, Jubilee, an' I don't trust ya anymore." He turned his face away from her and sat there, ignoring her. After a time, she went back to her corner of the cell and curled up on the pile of rags, hot tears streaming from her eyes. He saw it out the corner of his own eyes, and his own heart twisted in his chest…but he was still angry, and the anger overrode his feelings for her.

Jubilee lay on the pile of rags, tears trickling silently from her eyes. He hated her. He didn't believe her. He didn't trust her anymore. Her heart thudded down into her stomach, and stayed there as sorrow weighed down her shoulders. She loved him…but he'd never love her back. She'd ruined that. _Oh, God_, she prayed softly, _please let them kill me, let me die, it would only be a mercy now_.

The sound of footsteps broke into both their thoughts, and Logan looked up. Julian stood at the door to the cell, smiling. "Well. Look how the mighty have fallen. Logan, the greatest knight in King Richard's court, and his faithful squire, both down here in the dirt with the condemned." He smiled. "Gallas has some small affairs of state to take care of today, so Logan gets a reprieve. Gallas wants to be present at your interrogation. Enjoy the respite. You," he turned to Jubilee, "will take your turn in the torture chamber. If you consent to certain…services…I might wish you to perform, I might be tempted to leniency."

Hatred kindled in Jubilee's eyes. "Pigs will fly before I crawl willingly into your bed, _Sir_ Julian," she hissed, the emphasis on the word 'Sir' making it sound like a curse.

"Let's see how brave you are in a few hours, shall we?" Julian smiled as the guard pushed open the door and grabbed Jubilee's arm. Logan kept his eyes averted as she passed him, refusing to look. He was still angry…and he also didn't want her to see the fear in his eyes. Not for himself, but for her. He knew what he'd endured in the chamber. What might Julian do to her? Despite his anger, and his firm promise to himself not to care about her, he felt a nagging prickle of anxiety.

Jubilee hung between the two posts, unable to scream anymore. Shudders of agony racked her body, and all she could think of was_ Stop the pain_!

But Julian wasn't going to stop. Not until she said yes. And that was the one word she couldn't, wouldn't, give him. So she hung, and sobbed, and tried to bear the pain as best she could. Her wrists were raw from her constant struggling, and her throat hurt from her screaming. Finally she passed out.

Julian stood back, wiping his forehead. Perfect. He hadn't broken that honey-gold skin and drawn blood; but it was quite likely that the waste bucket in her cell was going to be full of discolored bodily waste. The only marks on her body were the two huge, dark bruises caused by the heavy rod he was slamming into the small of her back, the rod that was bruising her kidneys and causing her indescribable pain. The dim light from the fire at the far side of the torture chamber softened the lines and angles of her face. She really was beautiful. Julian decided he would grow her hair out. She'd look prettier with long hair.

He woke her with a dash of cold water in her face. She jerked awake, gasping in shock, and he picked up the rod and brought it around. He'd worked on her kidneys, and she hadn't broken. Maybe if he worked on her front…

He'd thought her throat too raw for the kind of agonized screaming she was doing now, but apparently he'd been wrong. She still had plenty of voice left for the pain he was inflicting on her chest. He stopped when the skin was a mass of dark bruises, and leaned in close. "Will you?"

Jubilee shuddered. She couldn't bear this anymore, she couldn't. She'd die. And what was she trying to save herself for, anyway? Logan? He didn't want her anymore. She had to focus on keeping alive to escape with Logan. That was all that mattered. If her body was the price she had to pay for survival and escape, she'd pay it. "Yes," she sobbed out, her heart breaking on the word. "Yes."

Julian smiled. The guards stepped forward, unbuckled the straps on her wrists and ankles, and half-carried the sagging figure out of the torture chamber. They dragged her out of the dungeons, dropped her in the dust of the courtyard, and threw bucketfuls of water over her, washing off the grime and filth and dust of the dungeons from her skin. Julian snapped his fingers, and two maids came forward, each taking one of Jubilee's arms and leading her stumbling into the kitchens.

Jubilee came back to her senses in a tub full of warm, steaming water. For a moment she sat in there, luxuriating in the feel of the heat soaking the soreness from her bones, dulling the ache in her kidneys and her breasts. Two sets of hands roved over her body under the water, washing her limbs and torso gently, and the scent of lavender and valerian reached her nostrils.

She cracked open an eye, and saw two women kneeling beside her as she lay in the tub. One was older, wearing a dark, plain dress, and had eyes like tiny dark pebbles in a weathered, tanned face; the other one was a blond younger girl with blue eyes like Jubilee's own. "What…" she tried to say, but her voice came out as a harsh croak. One of the women held a cup of water to her lips, clean, cool water, and she drank thirstily. The two women let her drink as much as she wanted to, and then indicated she should stand and step out of the tub. She obeyed, and they proceeded to dry her off with scented linen cloths, being especially gentle with her bruised lower back and breasts. Jubilee froze as she realized what they were doing, and began to laugh a little hysterically. "Well, I guess the traitor knight doesn't want to have a stinking piece of dungeon scum in his bed, is that it?" The women said nothing, just took out bottles of scented oil and began to caress her limbs with it. Jubilee submitted, staring at her toes. She had slipped the Queen's ring around her second toe; it was a little loose, but it was the only place she could think of to hide it, and so far it had worked. With her feet wrapped in the rags of her red squire's uniform, no one had seen the tiny band of gold, and the scarlet enamelwork of the Queen's Seal.

The women then took her to a small antechamber, and opened a drawer. The older woman pulled out a long, sheer gown of sapphire cloth, so finely woven that Jubilee's skin showed clearly through it. She draped the folds around Jubilee's body, making the skirt hang just so, tightening the cloth-of-gold sash around her trim waist. Then they took out long golden chains and a stiff choker of fine gold links. The older woman put the choker around Jubilee's neck, and it was only after she slid golden bangles with tiny locks on them did Jubilee realize what they were for. The chains locked to the collar and ran out to her wrists, and then more gold bangles were locked around her ankles. Chains ran from her wrists and collar down to her feet, and rings were added to each hand and foot. They saw the tiny gold band around her toe, but when the older woman looked up into Jubilee's eyes and saw the fear there, she said nothing, but deliberately slid another ring onto her toe to cover the thin, tiny gold ring.

Thus attired, they led Jubilee down he hallway and up the stairs. Jubilee stared up the steps, biting her lip. "Where are you taking me?" she cried. "Where?" She struggled in their grasp, refusing to move another step, her golden chains clashing.

The older woman stopped and pointed up, then tugged Jubilee's arm as if to say 'come on.' Jubilee stood her ground. "What, cat got your tongue?"

The blond woman drew her palm back and slapped Jubilee's face so hard Jubilee saw stars. She stared in disbelief at her, and the older woman caught the younger one's hand to prevent the second slap. Then she turned to face Jubilee and silently opened her mouth. Where there should have been a tongue was a stump of cauterized flesh.

Jubilee stared, shock replacing her anger. "I'm sorry," she stammered. "I didn't know. Did Gallas order it?" The blond woman nodded. Jubilee sighed. "Are you taking me up to him?" The blond shook her head. "Julian?" The older woman nodded.

Jubilee sighed and dropped her arms. "I'm sorry." She started to ascend the stairs. "I guess being Julian's bed warmer is better than being Gallas's bed warmer." The older woman nodded emphatically, opening the door at the top of the stairs.

Jubilee stepped into the room, her chains clinking, and stared around her as the women closed the door behind her, leaving her alone. The stone floor was covered with a thick, luxurious fur, probably wolf, from the way it looked. There was a large four-poster bed with sheer curtains around it, and large pillows at the head of the bed. Comfortable padded chairs sat around the room and the single table, and a large, cheerful fire burned in the fireplace.

A low chuckle came from the shadowed corner of the fireplace, and Jubilee's hatred rose at the sound of that chuckle. To hide it, she fell to her knees, her mind working furiously. If she pretended Julian had broken her, maybe she could get him to relax his guard. If she could do that, she could escape, get down to the dungeons, and free Logan, and they could escape. And pretending to be broken wouldn't be hard to do; she still ached horribly, all over, from her beating at Julian's hands in the torture chamber.

"You look much nicer cleaned up," Julian smiled, walking out of the shadows by the fireplace where he'd been poking the logs. "Will you cooperate, or should I tie you down?"

Jubilee remained kneeling, bowing her head. Julian stopped in front of her, reached down, and stroked her short black hair. "You look much prettier in a dress than in boy's rags," he said smiling. "But I still prefer you naked." He grabbed the neckline of her dress and ripped it apart. The sheer fabric tore all the way down, leaving her naked and exposed to his hungry, lustful gaze. She cringed as he grabbed the back of her neck and forced her to look up at him, closed her eyes and tried to restrain her anger as he crushed his lips down on hers. When he snapped a loose gold chain to her collar and led her to the bed, she closed her mind and bit her lip. And when he took her, cruelly ignoring her cries of pain as her virgin body was forced against its will to accept him, she suppressed her sobs and bore it, fighting the waves of pain and humiliation crashing through her. She offered no resistance to him when he tuned her over on her belly and tied her spread-eagle to the bedposts and took her that way. And when he picked up the poker, heated in the fire, and applied it to her thigh, leaving a livid burn mark on her skin forever, she could no longer protest to anything, too numb from pain and exhaustion to think of anything but acceding to his demands just to survive.

Logan grew alarmed when Jubilee didn't return with the gathering darkness. He wouldn't have admitted it, even to himself, but he did care for her, and he was worried. Whenever he heard footsteps in the corridor, he'd turn to the door, hoping to see her, but she never came. When night fell and the jailer came with a single bowl of gruel, he got up his nerve to ask what had happened to Jubilee. The guard just shook his head and turned away.

He spent that night in agonized waiting, but in the morning he had something else to occupy his mind, because Gallas and his torturer came for Logan again. Again he spent the day screaming, racked with agony as Gallas asked him who the Queen's other spies were, and whether the king was going to be returning to the capital anytime soon. Again and again Logan howled that he didn't know, but his protests were useless, because Gallas didn't believe him. That evening he was dragged back to his cell a shaking, bloody wreck of a man, and found someone waiting there with soft hands and cool water and cloths to clean his limbs and care for his wounds. He knew it was Jubilee, but anger overwhelmed him and made him sob with rage, because she had apparently struck a deal with Julian or someone who had taken her out of the cells and bathed and clothed her. He could smell lavender on her skin and hair and on the soft sheer fabric under him, and he cursed her aloud, weakly, because as much as he wanted to reject the help she offered him, he was too weak to push her away.

It was unfortunately true that the human body could get used to anything, and as the days went by he got used to the scanty food, musty water, and never-ending pain. One evening he feigned weakness when they brought him back, and Jubilee was brought to his cell, smelling of that damn lavender oil, to take care of them.

"Traitor!" he screamed at her, mad with fury and pain. And he charged at her, pinning her to the barred door and slapping her with all the strength left in his body. "Ya live up there," slap, "In comfort an' luxury," slap, "While I'm down here sufferin'!" slap. "Julian," slap, "He wasn't the only traitor in court, was he?" Slap. "Ya betrayed me," slap, "Left me here ta die," slap, "So ya can warm his bed," slap, "an' be fed good food," slap, "An' sleep in comfort! You bitch!" Slap. "An' you said you _loved_ me!"

Jubilee was crying as she slumped to the floor, trying to protect her face from his blows. "Logan, please! It's not like that!" and she cried out as he kicked her savagely in the ribs. "Please, Logan, it's not like that, let me explain…" but he was in too much pain and too angry with her to listen, and after a few moments the guard opened the gate and dragged her out. Logan didn't turn around as the door closed, didn't turn around as he heard her sobs echo down the corridor, to finally end with the slamming of the heavy wooden door leading up to the courtyard.

The same guard came down an hour later, and shoved a bowl of gruel in. "You won't be seeing her again," he said as Logan picked up the bowl.

"Good," Logan growled savagely. "Little traitor. I'll kill her myself if I ever see her again."


	25. Logan's Escape

Chapter 25: Logan's Escape

Julian looked up as someone tapped on the door to his room. "Yes," he snapped out sharply, turning away from the slumped, half-conscious body lying in the middle of the stone floor.

Jubilee moaned in anguish, trying to stifle her sobs as she hauled herself up to a sitting position. She hurt, she hurt so much, dear God, why couldn't Julian let her die? The heavy chain attached to her iron collar clinked as she looked up.

Gallas stood there, and behind him, the man who ran the dungeons. She cringed away from them, trying not to flinch from the cruel gazes raking her nude body, and curled up on the stone, as far away from the coiled black whip as her short chain would allow. Gallas's eyes followed her movement, and he laughed cruelly. "Not much to look at, is she?"

Julian strode back across the floor, grabbed Jubilee's hair, and wrenched her back up to a kneeling position. "Kneel," he ordered her, punctuating the command with a slap. Jubilee ducked her head, bringing one hand up to rub her stinging cheek, and dropped her eyes to the floor, tears falling silently down her cheeks.

"What do you want, Gallas?" Julian asked angrily, picking up the whip and snapping its tip in the air. The sharp _crack_ made the girl jump, and he smiled. "You're interrupting my playtime."

"Oh, I had a piece of good news for you I thought you might want to hear," Gallas said airily, making himself comfortable in a plush chair. "The dungeon master informs me that Sir Logan refuses to forgive the girl for lying. He's told the man that if he ever sees this little traitor…" Gallas placed his boot against one welted, bleeding shoulder and shoved Jubilee, sending her sprawling on the hard stone floor. "…again, he'll kill her himself."

Jubilee's eyes flew up to Gallas's face, and then past him to where the dungeon master stood with a leer on his face. "Logan…he said he'd kill me?" she whispered, her eyes wide and disbelieving. She knew he was angry, the way he'd attacked her when she saw him earlier, but she hadn't dreamed…

"Yes," Gallas enjoyed the look of horror and anguish on the girl's face. Physical agony was so delightful; but there was a certain pleasure to be had in inflicting mental and emotional torture on a victim. And women were so much easier to torment like this than men, because men didn't wear their emotions on their faces. "He can't have meant that…please," She begged him, "Please let me speak to him, Julian."

Julian cuffed her. "That's 'Sir' to you," he snapped angrily. "And he said he'd kill you. Think I'm going to let you walk into his cell?" he sniffed in disdain and flicked the handle of the whip around in his hand. The tip slithered on the floor like a living thing, and her eyes watched it fearfully. "Now how is this good for me, Gallas?"

Gallas smiled. "Well, it means that she is useless. I was hoping that Sir Logan's affection for his one-time squire might give us some leverage over him, but now that he's made his feelings clear, she's of no further use to me." He got up and walked around her, looking at the welts traced across her back. Many, many welts. "And if she's no use to me, I don't want her. Therefore, she's now all yours."

Julian threw back his head and laughed. "Do you hear that, girl? You are mine. Completely. I'll play with you until you're so ripped up and scarred you're no longer attractive, then I'll kill you. And I promise, your death will be very slow and painful."

"Why?" Jubilee gasped out, turning to face him. She half-rose, but the chain attached to the collar on her neck was too short to permit her to stand. "Why are you doing this, why do you hate me? What have I done to you?"

Julian smiled coldly. "You exist," he said. "You ignored me; shunned me, challenged me on the practice field and slashed up my clothes. You chose to serve Logan instead of me. I'm angry with you for all of those things." He snapped the whip, watching her flinch at the sharp snap. "You'll pay for that. You'll spend the rest of your life paying for rejecting me, and your last breath will be in payment for ignoring me."

Jubilee shrank away from the lash, pulling as hard as she could against the collar that chafed her neck. Gallas watched her looking warily at the whip. "You've marked her up pretty good over the last week, Julian," he said. "Have you taken her yet?"

"Many times," Julian laughed. "Many times. She still struggles so deliciously when I do, though; and she still screams so nicely. Would you like to take a turn with her?"

Gallas smiled. "I was hoping you'd ask," he said. "You, wait outside the door," he said to the guard who had come with him. The man bowed curtly, then backed out of the open door and closed it behind him.

He stepped out into the hall and leaned against the wall next to the two other guards standing there beside the doors. "Think we'll ever get a piece of that little slant-eyed girl?" he said to the guard on the right side of the door.

The guard shook his head. "That knight in there don't want to share," he said. "He calls us in sometimes when the girl's fighting him, and he tells us to shift her there, tie her here, and stuff like that…but he never invites us to share. We probably won't."

A high-pitched female scream came from inside the room, accompanied by loud male laughter, and the snap of a whip. Another scream. The dungeon master blinked. "Does she sound like that all the time?"

"Only when she ain't gagged!" The first guard laughed. "That knight's got one of those scold's bridles for her. 'Cept on this one he replaced the mouthpiece with a spiked ball, and it tears her mouth up something fierce if she tries to scream. So she don't scream much. But yeah, she sounds like that a lot of the time." The guards turned and looked at the door as another scream filtered past the heavy wooden slabs. "I'll say one thing. Gallas takes his girls, beds them, then rips their tongues out and leaves them for us. The knight in there…he ain't gonna leave nothin' for us. By the time he's done with that wench, she ain't gonna be fit for nothing but a shallow grave."

The dungeon guard looked disgusted. "What a waste," he said.

The second guard nodded sympathetically. "Yeah, I know. It's a waste. But them's nobles for you, they don't think that the little people like us might want some pretty wenches too." The three men nodded as another cry sounded from behind them, and settled down to wait for the King and Sir Julian to finish.

Gallas stood. "She does scream nicely," he said as Julian wiped the bloodied whip with a clean handkerchief and coiled it neatly back in a box under his bed. "I might ask you if I can use her again."

"By all means, Your Majesty," Julian said, unlocking the chain that held her fixed to the floor and tossing it aside carelessly. "She is a gift from you to me; it's only fair that you should be able to use her too." He grabbed a hank of rope and tied the end around her limp wrists, and tied the other end to the ring in the floor. "Now let's go and get something to eat. I'm hungry."

Jubilee lay, limp and still, waiting until their footsteps had receded down the hall, before opening her eyes and staring with her pain-blurred vision at the ceiling. Slowly, carefully, she rolled over, trying to ease the pressure of her body weight against thepainful red welts across her back and shoulders. She pushed herself onto her knees, unable to suppress all her sobs, and instinctively tried to bring her hands to her mouth to try and stop her cries.

And she felt a tiny slip in the knots that bound her as she pulled on the rope.

Julian usually tied her hands behind her. Why hadn't he done it this time? Maybe he thought she'd be so exhausted and in so much pain that she wouldn't wake up?

Well, whatever it was, she thanked the Goddess for it. Gritting her teeth against the pain in her shoulders, she grabbed the end of the rope in her teeth, working at the knot until it fell free from her hands. She froze for a moment as she heard a step in the hall, but whoever it was walked on past. The guards, she knew, would be in the middle of changing to the evening duty shift.

She had no time to lose. Stifling her cries of pain and resolutely pushing it to the back of her mind, she went to Julian's drawers and dug out two tunics and two breeches. Julian was taller than Logan, but she didn't think Logan was going to mind. Dressing in one set of clothes, hissing at the pain in her back and buttocks and legs, she forced the pain back, helped somewhat by the surge of adrenaline, and then quietly opened the door to Julian's room.

There was no one in the hall. Good. She tiptoed out of the room, closing the door quietly, and slipped into the shadows by the large tapestry hanging against the wall. Slipping from shadow to shadow, she crept to the top of the stairs and listened. Nothing. She crept down the stairs, following the same path she took to the dungeons to see Logan. She stopped before the door that led down to the dungeons and thought for a moment, then retraced her steps to the stables.

Logan's horse had been added to King Gallas's string of horses; not surprising, considering how fine the beast was. The horse laid his ears back and snapped warily at the smell of blood that hung around her, but as she whispered quietly to him, he calmed. She crept to the tack room and got a bridle and saddle, tacking the horse as quickly as she could, her fingers moving swiftly and surely in the semi-dark. The sun was setting, and she knew she had to work quickly. If she and Logan could escape in the darkness, it would be that much harder for the king's soldiers to hunt them down in the dark.

She led the horse out to the courtyard, and left him with the signal to wait. Carefully opening the door to the dungeons, she slipped down them quietly.

Along with Julian's clothes she had also taken a dagger and a sword. The sword was slung across her back, chafing the open welts; but she ignored it with an effort and slipped down the spiral steps until she got to the long corridor. And there, at the far end of the corridor, a guard drowsed a little as he leaned against the wall. The prisoners had just eaten, and were settling down for the night; he wasn't expecting any trouble.

She slipped down the corridor, keeping to the shadows as much as possible, and as a result the guard caught only a glimpse of her out the corner of his eye. By the time he had turned fully around to see who it was approaching him, the dagger was at his neck, slicing deep into the veins and windpipe. Blood squirted in all directions, splattering her and making her sick; but it was either her and Logan, or him, and she knew it. Reaching down, she lifted the ring of keys from his belt and fit the first one in the lock of the nearest occupied cell. Maybe if the guards had to round up all the prisoners she and Logan would have more time to get away. They had to warn King Richard.

Logan looked up as a key rattled in the lock, and stared with hot eyes at the girl outside the cell. She swung open the door and stepped in.

"Get out." He growled.

She stared at him. "Logan, please…I brought clothes, we have to get away, we have to warn King Richard.." she thrust the handful of cloth at him. "I have your horse waiting. Hurry!"

Logan stared at the girl. It was a trick, it had to be a trick…she was lying to him, trying to trick him… he remained sitting where he was, staring at the clothes. "This is some trick Julian dreamed up, isn't it. He put you up to this."

"No! Please, Logan, we don't have much time!" Jubilee cried in panic, shoving the clothes into his hand. Please! Get dressed! I am not the traitor, please, I swear!" She reached down and grabbed something from her foot. "Logan, please. Would the queen have given me this if she thought I was a traitor?"

Logan took the tiny gold band and stared at it. On the ring, worked in enamel, was the Queen's Seal. His eyes took in the detail, and although he didn't quite believe it, he thrust the ring in his pocket and started to shove his feet into the breeches and tunic. Maybe… "I'm still mad at you," he growled, but now he sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

She sighed. "Be mad later. Come on!" As they ran out of his cell and down the corridor, they heard the sudden sound of shouts and screams. The soldiers had discovered the prisoners escaping.

Logan growled and pulled his hand out of hers. "You…it _is_ a trick!" he snarled. "_You set me up_!" he ran away from her, up the steps and out into the courtyard, ignoring her panted pleas for him to stop, to wait for her. And there, wonder of wonders, was a saddled, bridled horse standing in the middle of the confusion in the courtyard. Logan didn't waste a minute. He sprang into the saddle, grabbed the reins, and reared the horse, letting his horse's hooves lash out at the nearest soldier. The man fell back, shrieking as a hoof print appeared in the middle of his chest. It might be a setup, but he was damn well going to do his best.

Jubilee appeared at the top of the steps and flung herself into the courtyard. "Logan, please!" she screamed desperately. "Please, take me with you!"

Logan wheeled his horse, looked at her. Maybe…maybe he should…

And then the door at the far end of the courtyard burst open, and a river of green and blue clad soldiers came pouring out. Jubilee stared at them, then drew the sword at her back. "Go!" she screamed. "Logan, go! Warn the King!"

Logan turned his horse and rode away, urging his horse at a gallop toward the front gate. Behind him, he heard the clash of swords, and risked a quick look back just in time to see the small figure go down under a mob of blue and green. Nothing he could do now. He couldn't go back.

He turned his horse's head toward the front gate and galloped on through.

Jubilee screamed in pain as her body struck the ground hard and Julian's sword was wrestled from her grasp. The sword was longer than she was used to wielding, and she was awkward with it. She had known that. But maybe…just maybe…she had bought Logan some extra time…

They bound her hands behind her with rope, and forced her to kneel as Gallas came storming out into the courtyard. "What's going on!" he screamed, almost apoplectic with fury. "What's going on here? What's the commotion about! I was eating supper!"

The head guard knelt, trembling. "Your majesty, the prisoners tried to escape. We got all of them but Sir Logan. He got on a horse and got away." He kicked Jubilee hard. "This one," he held up the keys, "got out of Sir Julian's room, went to the stables and tacked up a horse, and let the prisoners and Sir Logan, out of their cells."

Gallas grabbed a handful of Jubilee's hair and yanked her head back. Anger suffused his face, and he screamed at her, "Why? I gave you to Julian, I spared you having to live in that filthy dungeon, how could you repay my kindness by betraying me?"

Jubilee spat at him. "You truly don't know," she snapped angrily. "I don't want your _kindness_. You weren't _kind_, giving me to _Julian_. I'd rather live in the _dungeons_ than in his room and in his bed! He tried to break me...I'll _never_ break! I'll _die_ before I bow to the will of people like _you_!" Her words angered him. His foot came up, jabbing hard between her thighs, in her stomach, in her face. Her nose bled; scabs inside her mouth opened and started bleeding. She clenched her teeth, biting back her cries of pain.

He gave up, finally, puffing from exertion. "Take her down to the torture chamber, strip her, and tie her to the whipping post. I want her whipped, do you hear me? Whipped! Tortured! I want her _broken_. Keep her tied there until you hear from me. Take it in shifts, but I want her whipped until she begs for mercy!" Jubilee screamed in terror, but the guards dragged her down the spiraling stairs, down into the bowels of the dungeon, as Gallas started giving orders to the soldiers to send out search parties for Sir Logan. It was hopeless, and they knew it, but he had to try something. Anything.

The guards weren't gentle. Jubilee sobbed in pain as they tore the blood-soaked tunic from her body, reopening the wounds from her vicious beating of a few hours before. As they dragged her into the torture chamber and tied her between the posts, she hoped she had succeeded, that she had bought enough time for Logan to get away. He had the Queen's Seal with him as well. When he reached Richard, and told him about the traitor, the sight of the ring would convince him that Logan was telling the truth, and they would take steps to protect the king.

As the torturer picked up a long, cruel bullwhip, she closed her eyes and prayed for death to come swiftly. As the lash cracked across her already throbbing back, sending spikes of white-hot agony into her brain, her last coherent thought was that she wished she knew who the traitorous Duke was.


	26. Flight

Chapter 26: Flight

There was no sound in the dark forest but the horse's hoofbeats. They pounded in rhythm with Logan's throbbing head and throbbing back. He ached, and as his horse splashed through a tiny stream, he eyed the water longingly. Water…clean, cool water, not the stale, tepid stuff they gave the prisoners in the dungeons. But escape was the most important, now; he had to put as much distance between himself and any pursuers that might be coming as he could before he could rest.

At least the horse was saddled. If he had to ride the horse bareback he'd be in agony. With the pain the torturer had inflicted all over his body, the horse's spine digging between his thighs would have caused him unbearable pain. The simple act of riding now was pain too, but having the saddle cushioning his most sensitive parts helped. And though it had been dark, he could feel the horse under him and he knew it was his own horse.

A nice touch. Logan sneered. Did the girl think that he'd trust her if she got his own horse from the stable? Is that why Julian had ordered the black taken out? Did they think that if Logan failed to escape he would be that dejected that he'd tell them what they wanted to know?

Was the girl so stupid that she actually thought Logan would be fooled by this? Logan snorted to himself. He had seen straight through the deception. Jubilee had made some sort of deal with Julian, a deal that allowed her to share Julian's bed and sleep in comfort and luxury while Logan himself was suffering indescribable agony in the dungeons. Self-serving wench. Logan hated her. Hated her with a passion.

And yet…there had been desperation in her scream when she begged him to take her with him. Could she be up in Julian's room against her will, held captive there while Julian did…whatever…with her body? He knew there were subtler forms of torture for women, tortures that could cause terrible pain without leaving a mark. Had Julian done those things to Jubilee? And by leaving her behind, had Logan consigned her to a long, slow, agonizing death?

No. He shook his head. He wouldn't believe it. Couldn't believe it. No matter what the traitorous girl had done, she didn't deserve a death like that. Julian wouldn't be that cruel. No. She had to have been in league with him, had to have come up with this plan to raise hopes in him and then dash them. Dashed hope could be more demoralizing to a prisoner than torture could. Well, Logan had beaten the odds, and he'd escaped. Without the help of the brat.

But now…now he had to stay alive and avoid capture. And if he wanted to do the former, he needed water. He stopped his horse at the next stream they came to, dismounted, and lowered his head to drink. Slowly, though; he resisted the urge to gulp down mouthfuls of water as fast as he could. If he did that he would shock his body and his stomach would cramp up. He didn't need that. So he sipped at the water slowly until his thirst was satisfied.

Fortunately it was summer, so he didn't have to deal with cold temperatures. He had nothing with him, no pack, no blankets, but if he was lucky he wouldn't need anything.

And as if to mock him, the skies opened up and started pouring rain.

He mounted his horse, turned the animal and rode onward. He was on the same trail they'd taken to get here from the battlefield; he was certain of that. He'd seen a curiously-shaped tree about five minutes back down the road that he remembered when he and Jubilee and Julian had come to Gallas's castle, so he knew he was heading the right way. And if he wasn't mistaken, there up ahead was the small copse of trees that should provide some shelter from the rain.

The trees were evergreens, their branches so closely interlocked that very little rain got through. Logan swept a pile of pine needles together and lay down on it, the softness cushioning his burning, throbbing back from the cold ground. He wished he had his things. He wished Lee were here. He would have gotten a fire started, and something…even if it was just some of the dried meat in their packs…dropped into a pot of boiling water over the stove to soften before they ate it. Like he had when they were on their way back to King Richard's castle from the ruins of his village.

Logan shook his head, annoyed with himself, and got up to untack the horse. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Lee didn't exist; 'Lee' was a nonexistent person. Jubilee was Lee; and Logan didn't want her with him right now. No he didn't. She was a traitor, plain and simple, and he didn't want to see her again ever. Not that that was likely; if Julian was giving her fine clothes and scented baths and a comfortable place to sleep and she was taking it, then he didn't want her around. The little traitor.

He slipped into an uneasy sleep.

_He blinked. _

_Three women stood in front of him. One was a tall, indescribably beautiful red-haired woman with emerald eyes; the other woman had long, flowing silver hair and white eyes; and the third woman had thick, dark...purple?...waves falling down her back. Logan squinted at all three of them. "Who are you?" he finally found his voice._

_"We are the three fates," the red-haired woman said._

_"Witches, you'd call us," the silver-haired woman said._

_"Some call us the weird sisters," the third woman said thoughtfully._

_Logan raised his eyebrows. "All right, whatever ya are, why are ya in my dream?" he asked._

_Red stepped forward. "We are the representatives of your life," she said gently. "Not only this life, but also the next, and the previous lives before this one."_

_Silver stepped forward. "You have lived many lives, Logan," she said gently. "And you will live many more. There will be many other lives that touch yours; but there is one who will always be entangled in your life. This is she."_

_Logan blinked again as the third Weird Sister produced a bubbling cauldron from somewhere…he didn't see where…and stirred it. He looked down into the cloud of steam, seeing a girl with short, dark hair, bright blue eyes, and a bright smile, wearing some kind of sleeved cloak made of yellow cloth. When he looked back up, the three beautiful women had turned into three old crones. He blinked. "Excuse me," he said to the crones. "Weren't you just young?"_

_"Time goes in many directions," The purple-haired sister said, changing to her young form. "We are the daughters of the Goddess, and as such we can take on any of Her forms; the Maiden, the Mother, the Crone."_

_"I'm not a follower of your Goddess," Logan grumped. "I'm a follower of God, and you are nothing but pagan demons."_

_Red looked at Silver. "Do these mortals not know that all power in the world comes from the One?"_

_Silver shook her head, looking amused. "Apparently not, my Sister," she said gently. "Those currently at the head of the religious movement on the mortal plane wish to keep the followers of the White Christ and the followers of the Mother apart. They are simply unwilling…or unable…to see that the White Christ and the Mother are both facets of the same power. However, that is not why we are here, Sisters."_

_"Back to the matter at hand," said the third Sister. She stirred the cauldron, murmuring an incantation in a musical tongue, and then raised the stirrer. "Look," she told Logan._

_Logan leaned over and looked in. At first the image was cloudy, then, as it cleared, he saw a girl, with dark hair and bright blue eyes, paraded in chains before a man wearing a long white toga and the laurel wreath of the long-gone Roman empire. He gasped when he saw the man's face. "That's me!"_

_"He's perceptive." Red cackled, a dry, old woman's laugh._

_Logan ignored her, looking instead into the cauldron. The scene had changed; he and the girl were in an arena now. He had a sword out, facing a huge beast with retractable claws and a thick mane of fur around its face. The girl behind Logan was screaming in terror, and pain, and Logan could see the marks of a claw running down her thigh. He himself was scratched some, but not as seriously as the girl. As Logan watched, the image of himself closed with the beast, and killed it. Then he turned to the girl and took her in his arms, and she kissed him happily. Then clouds of steam hid the scene from his sight as Red took over the stirrer._

_When the steam cleared, he saw himself again, this time on a horse. Again, there was a young girl with dark hair and blue eyes, but now she was being beaten by a man wearing dusty breeches and a short tunic tucked into the waist of those strange breeches. His image in the water dismounted, and struck the man beating the girl. The man cringed; the girl cringed. Logan watched his other self kneel down and take the shirt from his own back, draping it over the sun-reddened shoulders of the girl before mounting and riding away__. Red gave the cauldron another stir, and when the steam cleared, Logan saw himself hanging on a huge wooden X, with spikes driven through his hands and legs. He watched as a small dark-haired girl approached the man on the cross, looking frightened but determined, and the man saw her. With a supreme effort, he wrenched his hands free of the spikes, a roar of pain shattering the quiet, and as he fell from the cross, the girl caught him, supported him, and helped him away from the cross into a structure behind her._

_"Careful, Sister," warned Silver. "It is not given a man to know his own future."_

_"This is only one of many possible futures," the dark-haired Sister said. "And, Sister, if he does __not make the right choice now, what I have shown him will not come to pass, and the circle will be broken in this lifetime."_

_"And that will affect the life I have shown him," Red said thoughtfully. "This is important, sister. He will never remember this when that time comes. The cauldron would never have shown him what it did if he did not need to see it."_

_Logan narrowed his eyes. "What choice am I supposed ta make?" he said finally, irritated with these three woman talking about him as though he wasn't there. They turned, startled, as if they had forgotten he was still waiting._

_"To save," Red replied._

_"Or not to save," Silver said._

_The third woman walked up to him. "The choice you make now, Logan, will affect the rest of your life. Not just the rest of this life, but the next one, and the one after that. In the Great Tapestry, Logan, you have just reached a point where you must choose whether to condemn a life to an eternity of darkness, or bind her to you for the rest of your soul's existence. It is your choice. Choose wisely." And suddenly, just like that, they were gone. There one minute, gone the next._

Logan sat bolt upright, gasping as though he'd just run a mile in his armour. As he sat there, trying to collect his scattered thoughts and wits, he tried to remember what the dream was that had startled him so. The last wisps of it were receding from his memory, and all he remembered was that he had a choice to make. An important choice. But he was damned if he could remember what that choice was!

He heaved himself to his feet, wincing at the stiffness in his back and legs. He stared down at the saddle he had lain his head on, making a face. Well, if he was this uncomfortable, no wonder he'd had bad dreams. He sighed and picked up the saddle.

The sky was lightening outside; Logan guessed that it was only maybe a half-hour before the sun rose. He heaved the saddle on his horse's back, then carefully mounted himself. He stared down the path he'd come down, wondering why he felt so drawn to go back. Back…to Gallas's fortress, to pick up the traitor girl? No. He would not!

He shook his head, turning the horse down the path he had been heading, and urged the horse into a trot.

A long time later, the trees ended and he stared out at the clear road and the small village ahead. A long way off in the distance, he saw the hazy hills on the border of Gallas's lands. Just past those hills, King Richard waited, all unsuspecting of the traitor back at the castle. Logan paused there for a long moment, undecided. Should he just take the direct road, or should he try to skirt the woods, taking the roundabout way back to the Argonne Hills?

He swayed in his saddle, suddenly dizzy. _Food_, his brain told him, fuzzily. His stomach rumbled as well. _Need food. And water_.

He rode down into the town, swaying in his saddle. He leaned his forehead against his horse's mane, and groaned as the ground swayed.

"Sir?" came a tiny voice somewhere down by his stirrup. "Sir, are you okay? You don't look so good." With an effort, Logan tried to look down, concentrate on seeing the owner of the voice, but his blurry eyes refused to focus. He gave up, and felt himself slip down off the saddle, to lie in the dust.

The little girl looked down at the man. "Sir?" she knelt by his side, and tugged at the end of his tunic. "Sir? Are you okay?" Her only answer was a groan. "Hold on, mister. I'll go get help."

Logan was only vaguely aware of the pattering of small feet rushing away from him, and he wondered if she recognized him and was going for a soldier. However, try as he might, he had reached the end of his strength, and while his brain could still think, his body refused to obey the most basic commands he gave it, like opening his eyes.

It wasn't long before he heard the feet coming back. Except it wasn't alone; it sounded like more than one pair. Three coming, at the most. He tried to open his eyes, but he couldn't even manage that simple act. "See, Da?" said the little voice. "I told you so!"

"Back up, Lianne." The voice was authoritative. "Sir? Do you need help? Are you all right?"

Logan forced his mouth to move. "Water. Food."

A hand touched hi shoulder, and the sudden pain made him cry out. The man took his hand away, and Logan felt the man pushing up the back of the tunic. Then the man cursed. "He's been tortured. This must be the escaped prisoner the soldiers were telling us about." He turned to the little girl. "Lianne. Run back to your Mam. Tell her we've got a visitor who needs help. And tell her not to say a word!" The small girl ran off, and the man turned to Logan. "Good sir, please, if you can, help us get you into your horse's saddle. We'll have to take you both out of the road before Gallas's soldiers find us, and you, here." Strong arms, two pairs of them, lifted Logan, and somehow he managed to scramble wearily into the saddle. The two men walked on either side of the horse, holding up in the saddle, and they turned and made their way down the road into the town. Somewhere along the way, Logan slipped into unconsciousness.

The plump, motherly woman held open the door as her husband and oldest son pulled the limp stranger off the big black horse. "In the guest room," she said briskly. "And then get that big black beast into the stable. We can't risk the soldiers seeing it when they come back down the road. There's spirits and vinegar left from the last time I bleached the linens; use that to bleach some of the beast's hair white. The soldiers are looking for a big black horse, not a black and white patched one. Lianne will help me with the stranger. We'll use some of the stuff ourselves to grey his hair; he's got enough lines on his face to pass for an old man, poor soul." She vanished inside the house, and the two men led the big black into the stables.

She carefully pulled the man's shirt off, with Lianne helping. She sent the girl out of the room with the shirt while she got the dirty, dusty breeches off, and as she did a small golden object fell out of the pocket. She picked it up; it was a tiny golden ring, of the kind women wear, and was engraved with butterflies and had a tiny seal the woman recognized as the one on Richard's flag. She looked at the unconscious stranger, then, with a thoughtful look, she left the gold band on the table beside the stranger's bed.

She studied the deep red welts on the stranger's back, noting the places where riding and exertion had broken through the scabs and caused them to begin bleeding. With her lips set in a thin line, she carefully bandaged the welts and wounds with gentle hands, smearing a homemade salve she kept around the house for cuts and scrapes between the layers of bandaging. Lianne came back with a bit of the bleach in a basin, and the woman busied herself with it, dipping a comb in the solution and pulling it through the tangled black locks. When she finished, the stranger had grey-shot hair, and that, combined with the lines of pain and exhaustion, made him look much older. "Well, that's it, my girl," she told Lianne. "That's all we can do. Let's cross our fingers and pray to the Goddess that the soldiers don't decide to search the house and stables when they come through." She left the room, taking the little girl with her, and shut the door.

Logan slept on.


	27. Mistress Mary

Chapter 27: Mistress Mary

Late-afternoon sun streaming in the window woke Logan up. He lay in the bed for a long time, luxuriating in its softness. He hadn't lain in a bed for almost a month now. Two weeks' travel from the capital to the border, three days there, two days on the road dragged along by Julian, and then a week sleeping on the cold, hard stone floor of Gallas's dungeon. He thought rather enviously of the soft, comfortable bed Jubilee must have slept in with Julian, and ground his teeth in anger again. Traitor.

The thought of her reminded him sharply that he needed to reach the King, had to warn him that there was a traitor in court and he had to return as soon as possible to the palace. He sighed, struggled to sit upright and reach for the stolen clothes he saw draped neatly over the side of a nearby chair…and found his body refused to obey him. Again.

He lay back on the bed. Of all the times his body could have picked to betray him, here and now was not the time. And where was here? He stared around the room. It was furnished with the bed, a small table, a chair, and a small chest for storing clothes; that was all. He tried to remember how he had gotten here, tried to remember who he might be, but

The door at the far end of the room opened, and a little blond head peeked in. He stared at the brown eyes for a long moment, she looking at his, and then the door closed and he heard her calling "Ma!"

A few seconds later, the door opened and a plump matron came in, wiping her hands briskly on a towel. "Finally awake, eh?" she said kindly, reaching down to touch his forehead. "The fever's broken, then. You're awake. Think you could eat a bit?"

Logan looked up at her. "Thank ya kindly, Mistress," he said as courteously as possible. "But I have ta be on my way. I have urgent news I gotta deliver."

The woman shook her head. 'You'll not be going anywhere at least another day, Sir Logan," she said firmly. "You've only just escaped Gallas's torturers and gotten over a three-day fever. You'll need to get your strength up before you go on."

Logan blinked. "Three days? Mistress, I thank ya fer yer hospitality, but I haveta—how did ya know my name?"

She smiled a bit and went to the door. He heard her saying something to someone outside the door, and moments later came back and sat down in the chair beside his bed. "You've been talking in your sleep, Sir Logan. You've mentioned your name several times; as well as the name of good King Richard. I've been holding my breath whenever the soldiers passed by, looking for you, praying you wouldn't scream out in your sleep and alert them, but you never did."

"Soldiers? They're lookin' fer me?" Logan looked alarmed. "Mistress… I beg ya, don't turn me in…"

The door opened, and the little girl he'd seen looking in a few minutes ago stuck her head in again. "Here you go," she said to her mother, handing her a bowl of steaming soup. The smell rising with the steam from the bowl made his mouth water and his stomach rumble, and he stared at it hungrily.

The woman busied herself with a tiny, low table, placing it over his legs and then putting the bowl of soup on it. "There now. Eat that up, that'll give you some strength." Logan reached out to pick the spoon up, and found that his hands refused to obey him. He gritted his teeth, hating his weakness, as he forced his shaking fingers to curl around the wood spoon and pick it up. He only managed a few spoonfuls of the soup before he had to put the utensil down, exhausted. The woman gently picked up the spoon, filled it, and raised it to his lips. Unhappy with being treated like an invalid, he opened his mouth so she could feed him.

She kept feeding him until the bowl was empty, and by then he could feel a little more strength seeping into his boneless limbs. When the bowl was empty, he sat back. "My thanks, Mistress," he said courteously. She nodded, handed the bowl to the little girl, and watched as the girl exited.

"Her name's Lianne. A good girl, if a little adventurous," the woman said. 'She was outside supposed to be feeding the chickens when she saw you and that big black horse of yours coming out of the woods up the road. She went to see who you were…and came running back calling for me when she saw how bad off you was." She sighed. "I'm Mary, by the way. And you needn't call me 'mistress', I'm not one of the nobility. Me an' my man Phillip live here with our three…well, two, now…children. Lianne's the youngest. My boy Will's the oldest." She leaned forward, her eyes dark. "Look here, Sir Logan, I'll not turn you over to the soldiers who are looking for you. Those soldiers killed my boy Henry, Lianne's older brother and Will's younger brother, for no other reason but that they were bored one night and wanted a little sport. They dragged him behind a horse for miles until my boy died. I bear no particular love for Gallas, never have, never will. And with us living so close to the border as we are, here, we hear rumours and see folk that lives on your side of the border. All of them happy, and not a one of them worries about what King Richard's knights might do to a little child if they get bored. The other people of the town…the smith had a girl just becoming a woman, loveliest thing you ever saw…she was taken away from them one day when she went to the town well for water and soldiers caught her. When they was done with her there was naught the Healer could do but ease her suffering and send her on to Heaven. We all mourned her passing. And we all hated the soldiers after that. I keep Lianne close to me, now, and I been trying to talk my man into crossing the border to your side, where we won't have to worry about what soldier's going to be wanting my Lianne before she's married."

Logan realized his mouth was open, and closed it. "I'm sorry, Mistress Mary," he said quietly, bowing his head. "fer yer loss. If ya do choose ta cross the border, you'll be welcome, and ya ain't gonna haveta worry 'bout yer little girl. We don't do stuff like that."

"That's what I've heard," Mary said, leaning back in her chair. "And that's why we took such pains to hide you when you came. The soldiers were scouting out the countryside, looking for you. They stopped at every town and village and house, asking us if we'd seen a short knight with blue and green ill-fitting, stolen clothes and whip marks on his back riding a big black stallion. Of course, we told them no." She smiled. "I redyed your clothing a different color; and my man dyed your horse. There's a big black and white stud out there servicing our mare." The woman smiled. "You also have grayish streaks in your hair. You look like an old man, not a young one."

Logan smiled at her, suddenly, a real smile with humour in it. It felt good. "Thank ya, Mistress."

She smiled too. "You're not that much older than my boy, and much younger than my Phillip, are you?" she said quietly. "With all the lines on your face…I'd wondered."

"I'm twenty years old," Logan told her honestly. "But if I don't look it…well, torture ages a man ten years every time he goes in, I hear say, so that'd make me an old man considerin' I was in an' outta Gallas's torture chambers fer a week."

The woman drew in a breath. "A week. That would explain your condition. Tell me," she said quietly, "Who is Jubilee?"

Logan stiffened. 'What?" he asked warily.

Mary looked at him curiously. "You called her name several times in your sleep. Who is she?"

Logan looked down at the worn quilt covering him. She had opened her home to him, sheltered him, and hid him. Would he offend her if he didn't answer her question?

"You need not answer," she said quietly, getting up and starting to straighten the rumpled bed. 'I wondered, is all. Forgive me." She patted the lump of his feet under the blankets, and smiled at him. "Sleep now. You need it."

Logan started to struggle out of the bed. "Mistress, my apologies…I can't, I have ta reach the King, I gotta warn him…I know what Gallas is plannin', the King's gotta know…" The hot soup seemed to have gotten his limbs working, and he shook off his lassitude and climbed wearily to his feet, reaching for the clothes draped over the back of the chair. "I have ta go, Mistress, please, ya can't stop me…"

She stared at him for a moment. 'Is it that important?"

Logan nodded emphatically. "It could mean the end of the war, Mistress Mary, and the defeat of Gallas, if I reach king Richard in time." He pulled the tunic over his head, wincing as the material brushed against his still-healing back.

"If it's that important…" Mary muttered something uncomplimentary about men under her breath, a comment that Logan wisely chose to ignore, and fetched a pair of boots. "They might be a trifle large, but they'll be better than wearing nothing. Lianne!" she called out the bedroom door. "Tell Da to saddle up Sir Logan's horse!"

She hurried off to the kitchen as Logan climbed into the rest of his clothes, and used the chamber pot in the corner. When he closed the room door behind him, carrying the container, the woman was in the small kitchen area, wrapping a huge hank of meat and bread and cheese in some clean linen cloth. "Here. I don't know how much luck you might have between here and the border finding someone'll give you food, so if you can't get a hot meal, you can eat this." She also tied a fairly large wineskin full of water around the food pack, and handed it to him as she took the chamber pot from him. 'I'll take care of that,' she said. "If your message is that important, then you've already tarried here too long. Go."

Logan stared at the food pack, at the woman, then dropped to his knees and pressed his lips to the back of her hand. "May God reward such a gracious hearty as yours, Mistress Mary," he said quietly, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Mary looked down at him. "Godspeed," she said quietly, laying a hand on his head. "Go with God."

Logan kissed her hand again and hurried out the door. A tall, older man with a lined face stood holding the reins of a large black and white patched horse. Logan stared for a moment, then remembered what Mary had said about hiding his horse, then grinned and bowed to the man. "Thanks fer yer hospitality an' yer silence," he said. "If ever ya need help, send word ta the capital, an' if I get it, I'll do what I can ta help ya."

The man smiled. "Go well and swiftly, Sir Logan." He held Logan's horse as Logan tied the small food pack to the saddle horn, and mounted. Logan spurred his horse into motion, and rode off. But just before he disappeared around a bend in the road, he turned, and saw the entire family standing at their front gate watching him leave. He raised one arm in a farewell salute, and vanished.

Jubilee raised her head wearily as the door to the torture chamber opened. Her pain-blurred eyes refused to focus, but she could vaguely see that the new visitor was Gallas.

She hadn't seen him since Logan had escaped, and from the scowling look on his face, she could see that he was well and truly gone. She didn't know how long it had been; it seemed like an eternity, though she supposed it could only have been at most a day or two. There were no windows in the torture chamber, and so it was hard to know how much time had passed. But there had been at least six guard changes since she had been brought down here and tied between the two whipping posts. She knew, because there had been a fresh arm striking her body at each guard change.

They had run out of flesh on her back, and the torturer had given the men permission to carry the whipping over on her front. Jubilee lost count of how many times she had fainted and been woken back up, only for the whipping to continue. Her world narrowed to this room and the constant burning agony in her body.

Gallas stood in front of her, cupping her chin in his hand as he studied her face. She willed her eyes to focus on his. "Are you suffering?" he hissed. She stayed silent. He reached down, grabbed a handful of flesh, squeezed. She screamed weakly in pain. "Are you suffering?" This time she nodded.

"Good," he snarled, turning to the torturer. "Has she been taken down at all the last three days?"

"No, m'lord," the man replied. "She's been tied there since the other one escaped. And she'd been constantly whipped, like you wanted."

"I sent a messenger off to Duke Gilbert, telling him what happened, but I don't think he'll reach the Duke before the King returns to the palace, thanks to this wench's allowing him to escape," Gallas ground out through gritted teeth. "My plans are ruined now. Ruined, because of some little wench!"

Jubilee hardly heard him. Duke Gilbert. The man who'd ordered the mercenaries to burn the town and kill everyone. The man who had unknowingly ruined her life. He was the traitor in court. The information was priceless…and useless. She had to get it to King Richard somehow, but she couldn't escape. She was too closely guarded. Maybe...maybe she could bribe a guard with her body to carry a message outside the walls? But how would she word it so that he wouldn't know what it was about?

No. A message could so easily miscarry if it was in the hands of someone she didn't know, didn't trust. She had to escape. She had to get out of here.

How was the problem. She was so tightly tied between the two posts that her arms and legs ached from the stretch; and her hands and feet, after three days of having ropes tied around them, were numb and purple from lack of circulation. She couldn't feel, couldn't move, her fingers. She was going to lose both her hands, she knew that. When they got her down they'd probably cut off her hands. She moaned at the thought of the pain that would entail.

But she could still ride without hands. If she could just get a horse out of the stables…but how to get out of the dungeons, first. That was the problem. Maybe she could act broken, and instead of fighting the guards who wanted her to do foul things with them and to her, she would submit. Submit and submit, and act broken, until they forgot she was dangerous and started getting careless. When they forgot her, then she would act.

Would she hold out that long? It had been a terrible three days, filled with blood and pain and screams, as she begged them to stop whipping her, as she told them she would do anything if they would stop. Several times she knew she'd teetered on the brink of madness, laughing hysterically as the guards changed shifts and a new man took his place in front of her.

Madness. She was terrified of it…but if she acted like she'd gone mad, would they stop? She thought about it as she heard Gallas walk over and pick up a whip, a cruel one that she'd only experienced once before. Maybe. There was a madwoman a few cells down from her, and the guards, aside from using her body, left her alone. Jubilee was so close to going mad herself…

The first stroke of Gallas's whip across her lacerated, bleeding front caught her by surprise, and she screamed. Gallas was truly angry; and that anger lent extra strength to his arm and accuracy to his aim. And he stepped back and waited until her scream died off into anguished sobs before he struck again. Spacing each stroke out, he caused her more pain over the next hour than the guards had given her individually. She screamed, cried, promised to perform all manner of services for him if he would stop, and by the time he stepped back she was no longer making sense.

No more. She couldn't take any more. It was too much. She couldn't hold out against this agony, she couldn't escape. It was hopeless. She was going to die here. So if she was, she had nothing to lose by pretending she was mad. She threw her head back and laughed insanely, swinging in her bonds. She barely recognized her own voice starting to sing a distorted child's rhyme.

Gallas stared at the singing girl. Her bloody body swung, ignorant of the pain from her wrists and ankles, and the hoarse voice croaked out a child's rhyme, grotesque now coming from bleeding, cracked lips. As the singing echoed in the dim chamber, he threw down the whip in disgust. "Oh, hell," he snarled, as he realized that he'd just broken the girl's mind. The pain had driven her mad. "Get this…piece of filth out of here," he snapped angrily at the guard standing by the door. The man stepped forward, started to unbuckle the restraints around the wrists and legs, and caught the filthy, bleeding body as it dropped to the floor between the two posts.

"She's useless," Gallas said angrily. "Stick her in a cell, and don't bother. If the guards want her, they can have her."

The insane laughter and singing echoed down the corridors as the guards dragged the body down the corridor of cells to the one on the end she had shared with Logan. The other prisoners stared as she passed, then they turned away. They blocked their ears and tried to ignore the nonsensical singing.

Jubilee's throat hurt, but she kept singing grimly. She had to act broken. Her ploy had worked; Gallas thought she was mad. Now, all she had to do was keep it up until the guards believed she was broken, then she could escape.


	28. Return

Chapter 28: Return

King Richard looked worn and tired. Vincet looked at him sympathetically.

That spring's campaign was supposed to have been a quick one, a simple going in and routing of Gallas's forces. Instead here they were, fighting off Gallas's troops, which had mysteriously started to gather right here on the border. Somehow Gallas had found out, or figured, that Richard would try to end the war here this spring and had sent wave after wave of his troops against Richard's forces to try and stop him.

"I cannot think how Gallas could have known what my strategy would be," Richard said, sighing heavily as he took another sip from his wine cup. "Unless the traitor is in this very camp. We have lost too many good men."

He had dropped the royal plural pronoun, which was a sign in and of itself of just how tired he was. Vincet leaned forward and placed a hand on Richard's arm. "Your Majesty," he said, his voice low and soothing, "Please don't give up. We have only been here two weeks; maybe it will just take a little longer."

Richard looked up wearily. "But how much longer? Why is Gallas throwing all his forces here, at me? I wish I had Sir Logan here. As young as he was, he had a good head. He could usually guess at Gallas's motives."

Vincet sat back soberly. He missed Sir Logan. Everyone missed him. After the first battle, when Vincet himself had been wounded, no one had been able to find Logan, his squire, or Julian. Two of the best knights in King Richard's court, and they had gone missing. It didn't bode well. They had looked in the face of every dead knight on the field, twice over, to no avail. Logan, Julian, and the squire Lee were gone. Vincet was hoping they had been captured, but so far Richard had not received any offers of ransom for the three missing people. People were more worried about Logan and Julian. When Vincet mentioned the squire, people looked blank for a moment before they said, "Oh, yes, the squire."

He was the only one who knew that Lee was really Jubilee, and a girl. And because he knew her secret, he was more concerned about her than Logan or Julian. If she were discovered, hell would break loose. Gallas was still known for burning witches, although the Inquisition was over now, had been over for a decade. Gallas could very well burn her at the stake for a witch, or have her tortured.

Not to say he wasn't concerned about Logan too; but Jubilee occupied more of his mind than Logan did. Logan could take care of himself. And Julian…Vincet had never liked the knight, not since he had hopped the border between Richard and Gallas's kingdoms and attached himself to Richard's court. There was just something about Julian, a sort of sly secretiveness that Vincet didn't like. And seeing the way Julian eyed Jubilee didn't help either. No one else seemed to have noticed anything different about Julian, and he had a few friends among the knights too. When the three had first gone missing, Vincet had told the company what he thought; Julian had captured Logan and Lee in the aftermath of the battle and carried them off to Gallas's fortress.

They had scoffed. Julian hadn't formally renounced his vow of loyalty to King Richard, so 'going over' to Gallas's side seemed inconceivable. He would be forsworn, and stripped of his title and his sword. He wouldn't do that, they said, Julian wasn't capable of that kind of treachery. Even the King thought Julian wasn't capable of that kind of treachery. So Vincet swallowed his words. Sooner or later, they would find out what happened to Logan and Lee, and he was fairly sure he'd be proved right when the time came.

He sat back in his chair and looked around the room. Those knights who were in the 'trusted' category were here for a strategy meeting after the fighting was over for the day. There were so few of those, however; most of them were injured, and were downstairs being tended by the healers Richard had brought along.

"Well, it's late," Richard sighed as she put down his empty wineglass. "I have no doubt you'd all rather be heading for your beds. I won't keep you, then." Taking that as a dismissal, they started to rise from the table.

"Your Majesty! Your majesty!" Came a panicked cry from the hall. "Your Majesty, there is a rider approaching on the west road, wearing green and blue!"

Everyone in the room sprang out of their chairs and started to rush from the room. Vincet was one of the first knights out the door, hurrying after the page.

There was indeed a rider, approaching the castle on the western road. It was too dark to see the rider's face, but the color of the clothes in the dim light of the torch he carried showed the green and blue colors he wore. The knights stepped in front of Richard, forming a protective circle around the King, but Richard was the one who spoke as the horse came to a halt before them. Vincet stood frozen as the massive black and white horse skidded to a stop, head hanging, flanks heaving. He stepped out of the circle, at first slowly, then at a run as he saw the unmistakable red and gold enamelwork across the horse's browband. "Logan!"

He raced to Logan's side, reaching up to catch the shorter man as he almost tumbled from the saddle. "A torch!" Vincet cried out, and a page hastily brought one as the rest of the knights crowded around.

In the flickering firelight from the torch, Vincet drew a breath in shock. Logan was thin, thinner than when Vincet had last seen him; and the dusky bruises on his face and the bulky bandaging under the shirt left no doubt in Vincet's mind that Logan had been tortured. But he was alive, and that was what mattered.

Richard stepped forward. "Sir Logan," he began.

Logan struggled to stand upright, gripping his horse's stirrup. "Your Majesty…you must go home, you cannot stay. The Queen…there is a traitor at the castle, I heard it from Julian and Gallas…You must get back to the palace, Your Majesty, as soon as possible!" And as if that gasped message had sapped the last of his strength, Logan collapsed, barely kept from falling by Vincet's hands under his arms.

Richard took charge of the situation. "You," he said to the page who had led them outside, "Run inside and get the Healers to bring a travois for him. You," he said to another page, "Take Sir Logan's horse to the stables and untack him. Feed and water him, and come back here."

They only had to wait a few minutes before the healers came hurrying to answer the King's wishes. Vincet helped the healers lift Logan onto the stretcher-like affair, and everyone hurried after them as they rushed off to the rooms where the wounded were being tended.

The chief Healer stopped them at the door. "With respect, your majesty, the man is injured and needs rest and quiet," he said. "I shall send a page for you when he wakes so you may question him."

Vincet sat in the chair by Logan's bed, watching the other man. The grey streaks in his hair made him look older, more mature. The lines on his face helped too. Julian and Gallas…so Vincet was right. He had tried to point that out to the others, but they still refused to believe him. Well, wait till Logan woke. Then they would have to believe. Julian had been Gallas's informant in court; that was how they had known where Richard was going to be. Now…if Logan was here, where was Lee?

Logan groaned and brought a hand to his head. "Oh, God, what a headache," he groaned.

Vincet leaned forward and grabbed the cup beside the bed. The Healer had said Logan might have a headache when he woke up, and had left a brew for him to drink. He slid an arm across the back of the shorter man's shoulders and helped him sit up. "Here. The healer said drink this. It'll make your head feel better."

Logan took the cup and took a sip. Then he made a face. Vincet grinned sympathetically. 'Sorry. He said you have to drink it all."

Logan grimaced and closed his eyes, tossing back the rest of the cup's contents in three huge gulps, then lay back on the pillow. After a few moments, he opened one eye. "Feels a little better." He opened the other eye. "How'd I get here?"

"You came galloping up on a black and white monster late last night. You told His Majesty something about him having to return to the castle, and mentioned Julian and Gallas…and then passed out. The Healers brought you here and tried to patch you up."

Logan started to struggle to a sitting position. "Damn it. I have ta…tell the King…" he gasped with the effort. "Vincet, please…this is important…I have ta see the King, help me up…"

Vincet sighed. If it was this important, he'd better help him, or Logan would injure himself trying to reach Richard. He went outside and spoke to the page waiting beside the door, "Bring His Majesty. Logan's awake and he needs to talk to the king."

Minutes later, Vincet heard the shuffling of many footsteps in the hall, and then the door swung open. King Richard, the Weaponsmaster, and at least half of the company's knights stood in the doorway. The Healer arrived, pushing his way importantly into the crowd, and kept them all out except the King and the Weaponsmaster. And Vincet, who was already inside.

Logan struggled out of bed as the King walked in and went to one Knee. "Your Majesty," he said quietly. Richard shook his head and hauled Logan back to his feet, then deposited him back on the bed.

"I am not so mindful of rank that I would make an injured man kneel to me when he should be in bed," Richard sneaked a look at the healer. "Besides, your healer would probably have my hide for it, king or no." The Healer crossed his arms and tried to look indignant, which was almost comical in a man who was shorter than Logan. He also had no hair.

"Now what news have you for me," Richard said as he seated himself in the chair Vincet vacated.

Logan looked serious. "Julian. Julian was one of the traitors. He kidnapped me on the battlefield after the first day, an' took me ta Gallas's fortress two days' ride from here. While I was there Gallas…questioned… me," (and his expression left no doubt in anyone's mind what form that 'questioning' had taken) "An' while I was in the torture chamber I heard Gallas an' Julian discussin' Gallas's plans. Yer Majesty, Julian told Gallas we were a 'present' from 'the Duke'. I don't know which duke, though. But Gallas was talkin' 'bout it later, an' he said that he was goin' ta keep ya busy here and send a messenger to the Queen sayin' you was dead. The traitor back at the capital's supposed ta take over the city an' imprison the Queen, tellin' everyone that she's gone mad with grief. Then Gallas would leave enough of his forces here ta make ya think he was here while he went upriver ta the castle and installed himself there. Then he'd send ya a message tellin' ya the Queen was in trouble, an' when ya came runnin' back he'd take ya captive an' execute ya and marry Renee. Yer Majesty, ya gotta get home. Leave enough o' the knights here ta fight ta make it look like yer still here, an' get back to the castle. An' in the meantime send a messenger ta the Queen ta tell her ta hold the castle with the guard. The traitor's gonna try an' take over."

The weaponsmaster looked grave. "Sir Julian. It appears you were correct in not trusting him, Vincet. I am sorry for not listening to you and setting a watch on him."

Vincet gave a curt nod to the weaponsmaster and leaned in toward Logan. "What did you mean when you said 'we', Logan? Was Lee with you? Do you know what happened to the boy?"

Logan looked down at the blanket that covered him. "Lee…" he hesitated. What would he tell them? Lee wasn't who he pretended to be? Lee was a girl? Then Logan would have to admit he'd been so careless he'd never noticed the boy's gender. He decided to take refuge in a lie; after all, the boy was with Julian, and as soon as Gallas's plans came undone Jubilee and Julian would flee into Gallas's lands. Logan, and the others in the castle, would never see him again. "Lee didn't make it."

There was silence in the room for a moment, then the King sighed heavily. "We regret the loss of your squire, Sir Logan," he said quietly. Logan breathed a gentle sigh of relief. They took it the way he meant, then, that Lee had been tortured and not survived it. "I never thought Gallas would stoop so low as to torture a child. Thank you, Sir Logan. The information you have brought me is precious beyond belief." He turned to the Weaponsmaster. "Who do we have that can be spared to run to the capital and deliver a message to the Queen? And how will she know that this is not a trick, that this is not another piece of treason? She has been suspicious for some time, telling me we had a traitor in the inner court, but I never dreamed…a duke," he sighed. "One of my Dukes."

Logan looked around quickly, and spotted his clothes hanging on a nearby nail in the wall. "Vincet…" he indicated the clothes. Somewhat puzzled, Vincet brought Logan's clothes.

Logan fished around in his pocket until he found the tiny gold ring, and held it out. "The Queen will recognize this," he said, holding it out.

Richard took it, and stared for a moment. "Renee's personal insignia and the royal seal," he said quietly. "How did you come by such a thing, Sir Logan?"

Logan tried not to sound angry. "Lee was one of the Queen's spies," he said, looking down at the blanket again, trying to hide the anger in his eyes. "All those times she called…the boy…up to her room, supposedly to perform his acrobatics for her…she was getting reports from him. She gave him this." Logan nodded toward the ring in Richard's hand. "The boy told me to make sure the Queen got it." Which wasn't quite the truth, but Renee would recognize the ring and know that the bearer of the message was trustworthy.

"So this is why she assured me the boy was harmless, and told me not to pursue him," Richard said thoughtfully. "I thought at the time that it was peculiar that she should start dallying with the castle lads. This simplifies matters much," Richard said. "Now we need to have someone go and deliver the message, and the ring. Have we any knights who can be spared?"

"With all due respect, Your Majesty," the Weaponsmaster said, "No. We can send a page."

"No," Logan looked up. "Ya haveta send someone who can fight. What if the messenger's ambushed on the road by bandits? Or what if the conspiracy's planned for somethin' like this an' has someone watchin' the roads? What if Gallas's got other traitors than this Duke and Julian?"

The weaponsmaster looked surprised, then speculative. "Let me think."

Richard turned to Logan and tipped his head a fraction of an inch. "We thank you for bringing this matter to Our attention," he said, slipping into the royal pronoun. "We shall ensure that your bravery will not be forgotten when We return to the castle."

The weaponsmaster shook his head regretfully. "We have no knights who can be spared," he said to Richard. "We will have to send one of the squires."

Logan shook his head. "A squire won't have the skills," he said grimly. "Yer Majesty, since I can't fight, perhaps I could carry the message ta the Queen fer ya? A week's ride wouldn't be too difficult fer me, an' the Queen will trust me. An' I'll ensure that the message won't miscarry."

The King hesitated. "I do not want to place undue stress upon you, Sir Logan…" he said quietly.

"Won't be no stress," Logan said. "I ain't in a condition ta fight in a real battle, but a skirmish with a possible bandit or ambusher won't strain me much. If Gallas has ambushers between here an' the castle, they'll most likely be prepared fer a page or a squire, seein' as all the knights are busy fightin'. They won't be expectin' a veteran knight."

The Weaponsmaster nodded carefully. "As much as I dislike sending an injured man out, I see no other choice, Your Majesty," he said. "And if we disguise him in the clothes of a peasant, he will be less noticeable. Especially as he is already disguised, with the graying hair. And that horse is ugly enough to pass for peasants' stock." He turned to Logan. "Your horse looks somewhat different now than he did when I last saw him, but he answered to the same name. Tell me, Logan, how did you manage the trick?"

Logan grinned. "Ran inta a farmer just outside Gallas's fortress who didn't have a likin' for Gallas. He smeared my horse with the stuff women use ta whiten linens. Then his wife ran some of the stuff through my hair to grey it. Gallas's soldiers were lookin' fer an escaped young man with black hair an' a black horse, not an old man with a piebald."

The King nodded. "Clever. Logan, I know you need to recover, but.." he turned to the healer and asked, 'When is the soonest he will be able to travel?"

"Now," Logan answered.

"A week," the healer said at the same time.

Richard looked from one to the other. "Tomorrow evening will be soon enough," he said firmly, overriding the Healer's protests. "Healer, I need him. Renee needs the information this man possesses. And he is the only possible one who can get the message to him in time." King Richard sighed. "I shall make arrangements tonight, Sir Logan," he said. "You shall have a fresh horse at every stop between here and the castle, courtesy of the King's Guard posts. The message must get to Renee as quickly as possible."


	29. Saving The Kingdom

Chapter 29: Saving the Kingdom

After the king had left Vincet spoke to Logan. "So what did happen with Lee?" he said quietly.

Logan narrowed his eyes. The man sounded like he knew more than he was letting on. "Nothin'," he said shortly. "Gallas tortured him. The boy didn't make it." He turned over on his side. "I wanna rest, Vincet." The other man took the dismissal for what it was and left the room.

Logan rolled over, ignoring the protesting twinge in his still-tender, whipped back. Was it only two days ago that he had been screaming in agony in Gallas's torture chamber? It felt like a lifetime. There was a huge difference between the dim, fire-lit torture chamber and this room flooded with sunlight and smelling of healer's herbs. He felt a stab of unease as he thought of Jubilee. Where was she now? If the plan had been to soften Logan up, to dash his hopes by tempting him with freedom and taking it away, then Jubilee had failed and would probably be punished by Gallas. Maybe even Julian too. The thought of Julian in the torture chamber filled Logan with a grim pleasure; but thinking of Jubilee there made him uneasy, for some reason. He didn't know why.

No, now he was lying to himself. He knew why. Because the girl had told him she was innocent. Because she really had seemed to care for him. And if it really had been a set-up, Logan wouldn't have gotten away so easily. If it had been a set-up, the girth strap on the saddle would have been cut, so he fell off as soon as the horse was in motion. Or guards would have stopped them. Logan vaguely remembered seeing a guard lying on the floor of the stone corridor. It had been too dark to see if the man was dead, but the stench of blood had been strong. And why let the other prisoners out?

Guards could have been posted in the forest; Jubilee, and Julian, would have known he wouldn't be able to avoid the road. The territory was unfamiliar; he would have taken the same way out as they took going in. And, if she was the traitor, she wouldn't have given him the Queen's ring. That little tiny circle of gold, together with the information, was enough to bring Gallas, Julian, and the unknown traitor down. She could so easily have withheld the gold ring, and there was little chance that Renee would have believed a messenger if the ring weren't given her with the message. Only the Queen and her spies would understand the significance of the ring.

So it was possible that maybe it wasn't a setup, that she honestly had been trying to help him escape. But if that was true, then it was also quite possible that she wasn't in Julian's bed voluntarily, that she had gone there to get Julian to relax his guard long enough for her to slip the keys and escape. If that was the case, then she could very well be screaming in torment in the torture chamber, or abused by the guards, at that moment, while Logan was lying on a soft bed in a sunny room safe and sound.

No. It couldn't be. He had to keep telling himself that, keep himself angry, because if he didn't he'd crumble under the weight of guilt at what he'd left a young, defenseless girl alone to face. Her name was Jubilation Lee; but what had really happened, who and what had she been, how old was she…there were a thousand questions Logan suddenly wanted answers to, and hewould probablynever know them. And the guilt of having left her, when he could have saved her and maybe paid the life-debt he owed her…but he didn't really owe her a life-debt to her, did he? He'd sworn the life-debt to a boy named Lee, not to a girl named Jubilee. He was absolved of that guilt. He didn't owe her anything.

So why did he feel so damn rotten?

Vincet wandered out to the stables and spent some time with Logan's horse, washing the white patches out of his coat. The King had decided to give Logan one of the Lord of Argonne's racing horses; the horse was lighter-bodied than Logan's warhorse, and would make better time, in addition to being faster. He could also leap fences and ditches, and that would be an advantage if Logan had to flee across country from ambushers. The big, battle-trained warhorse would stay here.

What had happened to Jubilee? Logan was being awfully close-mouthed, and Vincet was willing to bet that Logan had found out about the 'boy's' true identity. But if he'd found out Lee was really Jubilee, then why in the name of all the saints hadn't he brought the girl with him when he fled Gallas's fortress? Why had Logan left her there? He had sworn life-debt to the girl; the fact that her gender had changed wouldn't, and shouldn't, matter. And even if it did…common decency and common sense should have told Logan what would happen when he left. Jubilee would be tortured, and horribly, when Julian and Gallas found her there and Logan gone. Julian could be sadistic when he got angry. There was a tavern wench in the capital city who would walk with a limp forever because Julian had broken her leg one night in a fit of anger. The matter had been hushed up quickly, especially as the girl was plain and poor andhad no family to speak for her.

Vincet had heard anger in Logan's voice when he spoke of Jubilee. It wasn't obvious to someone who didn't know him well, like the King and the Weaponsmaster, but Vincet had spent a lot of the trip on the way to Argonne making friends with Jubilee and Logan. He could hear the anger, but however angry Logan was with her for the deception, she didn't deserve to be paid back with as much pain as she was most likely enduring now. Unbidden, Vincet's mind played out all the possible things that could be done to a woman who'd gotten on the wrong side of a man who had access to a torture chamber, and they were all gruesome, horrendous possibilities. The girl wouldn't survive them long, not with her sanity intact. And her body was probably violated already. He was willing to bet Julian had her under him before Logan had even escaped.

The thought madeVincet shudder. He finished with the horse and hurried back inside, intending to speak to Logan, but was intercepted by the Healer at Logan's room door. "He's sleeping and shouldn't be disturbed," the short, balding man said apologetically. "However, His Majesty asked me to inform you to report to his rooms before you retired for the night." It was drawing on toward sunset, Vincet noted with surprise. Where had the day gone?

"You wished to see me, Your Majesty?" he said as he opened the door.

The King was sitting wearily by the desk. "You used to serve in the Guard," he said. "Are there any posts between here and the castle by the most direct route?"

Vincet slid into the chair Richard indicated. "There are four," he said. "All within a day or so's hard ride from each other. Why, Your Majesty?"

"I am worried," Richard confessed. "I am worried about Renee, and what may be happening even as we speak. I would hope she would wait for confirmation of my death before trusting simply in a message, but I am not sure that such a thing would happen. So I'm trying to arrange the fastest way to the castle, and Renee, for Sir Logan. He's going to have to ride hard all the way, and if I know him, he won't want to rest. If he starts from here at a gallop on Lord Argonne's racer, how soon will he reach one of the Guard posts?"

"If he leaves tomorrow night, at the horse's top speed he'll be able to reach the first post by the next at noon. Mid afternoon at the latest," Vincet said thoughtfully. "Then they give him a fresh horse, and he could reach the second post by evening of the third day. He'll overnight there, get fresh horse at morning, and he'll reach the next post at noon on the fourth day. He'll get his last horse there, and with a stop of about seven hours for rest, he should be at the post in the city by noon. Then from there it's all city streets until he reaches the palace. He should reach the Queen at sunset on the fifth day." Vincet didn't tell the King that Logan was likely to skip the rests and ride all night. If the man did that, he'd be at the castle in four days, if he didn't run into ambushers on the way.

"So he should reach Renee in five days at the most?"

Vincet nodded. "Logan will run the horse into foundering if he has to, your Majesty, and himself as well if he has to. Five days is a conservative estimate; I think he'll make better time than that."

"So be it." King Richard sighed tiredly. "We'll decamp the morning after he leaves. With all these people following me, we'll probably be at the castle eight days from now. It's as good as we're going to be able to do."

Vincet nodded.

Logan woke to see the room darkening with twilight. For a moment he was tempted to slip back into sleep, the ache in his body soothed by the comfort of the bed under him, but a sense of urgency drove him out of the comfort of the bed and pulled on the rough brown homespun clothing that someone had already found for him. Opening the door carefully, he checked the hall. There was no one there. The Healer must be taking this opportunity to sleep.

He slipped out of the room, closing the door quietly, and hurried down to the kitchens. Grabbing a hunk of bread and some cold meat left from the evening meal, he bolted it down quickly before the cook could catch him at it. Stuffing a little extra into a bag, as well as a skin of the stimulating morning tea, he headed outside.

And ran squarely into the King outside the stables.

Richard looked at Logan disapprovingly. "Sir Logan, you shouldn't be out of bed," he said. "You're going to have a lot of hard riding over the next few days. You should get your rest now."

Logan drew himself up. "Beggin' yer pardon, Yer Majesty, but we don't got time. I dunno how long ago Gallas sent a messenger ta the capital, an' whoever the traitor Duke is, so it's important that I get there 'fore he does. I can rest later. This is more important."

Richard faced him for a moment, and Logan braced himself to argue more…and then Richard capitulated. "As much as I would like to order you back to bed, I don't think you would go," Richard said at last. "And I am worried about Renee. Sir Logan…would you tell her…that I love her, and I miss her? And that if it comes down to violence, I would rather lose my throne and my kingdom than her, so she is to keep herself safe."

Logan felt a lump rise in his throat. He'd been so busy worrying about what had happened to him that he hadn't thought about the King. For all his royalty, Richard was still only a man worried about his wife. He went to one knee before the king. "I'll give her the message, Yer Majesty," he said seriously.

The King sighed. "Here." He slipped a ring from his finger, a heavy gold signet with the royal seal on it. "I was going to arrange for you to have guard horses at each guard post, but if you're going to take off earlier, there might not be time to make sure there is one. Take this. Whoever you require help from, show them the signet and tell them you are on an urgent errand for the King. They should give you whatever you require; if they don't they will be punished later."

Logan took the ring and slipped it on the thong around his neck that carried the Queen's ring. "I shall use it well, Yer Majesty, an' I'll return it to ya when I see ya." He got up and headed into the stables.

"Not your horse," Richard said. "The Lord whose keep this was had a small string of fast hunting and racing horses. You'll be taking his fastest hunter, and the lightest saddle. With him so lightly-burdened, you'll travel faster."

Logan quickly saddled the horse, and bowed to the King before springing into the saddle. "Thank you, Yer Majesty," he said formally, tying his tiny food pack to the saddle horn. "I'll see ya again when ya reach the capital."

"Go well," Richard said quietly, watching the knight on the horse speed off into the dark night.

_Go well_, Logan thought as he sped down the road. _Well, we're going well so far_.

He'd reached the first guard post at dusk the evening after he'd left Argonne Keep behind. So far, there were no ambushers or bandits waiting on the road. He breathed a sigh of relief as he came in sight of the Guard post.

The Guard served as the lawgivers and policed a small group of town. There was usually one Guard post to each ten towns, and they made it a point to keep fast horses at each post so that if an emergency arose the members of the Guard could get to the scene quickly. Logan had always been a little huffy about these horses; they weren't bred for anything but speed and stamina. Intelligence, which was what a Knight looked for first, was in short supply among these Guard horses.

But he was grateful for that speed and stamina now. The lord's hunting horse had been small and fast, but hadn't much in the way of stamina. Every five minutes he had to stop and let the horse walk.

This horse was fast, and he'd been almost flat-out galloping the last three miles. And he still had some left to give. Logan squinted at the sun. They had told him that the next Guard post was a day and a half ahead of him; at the pace the horse was traveling, they might make it in a day. He'd spent as little time sleeping as he could, asking the Guard to wake him only four hours after he'd ridden in. When they woke him he'd dragged himself back in the saddle, bolted the food they'd given him while on horseback, and settled in to a long ride.

The hair prickled on the back of his neck, and he slowed the horse, paying attention to that special sense that told him he was being watched. He let the horse drop to a walk, heaving, and pretended to fumble with his food pack while he surreptitiously scanned the surrounding forest. And the road in front of him. The surface of the road was too hard-packed to show signs of hoof prints, but the grass to one side was a little trampled where a group of riders had turned off the road and headed into a thick copse of trees up ahead.

He fumbled with the water skin hanging from his belt, not because he was thirsty, but because his hands were close to his sword there. His movements were deliberately casual, and to anyone who didn't know him, he was completely relaxed. A deliberate draw.

The trees he'd had his eye on exploded outward, and a group of three--no, four, he corrected himself—lightly-armed bandits came charging at him. It was only a half-second from his water skin to his sword hilt, and then bright steel flashed out. He wheeled the horse grimly. He was hoping his peasant garb might hide him, but these men had guessed who he was and what his errand was. And they had been waiting for something like this.Two of them suddenly rode at him, their swords out and extended. They looked like they were going to try and sweep him from the horse's back on the edge of their sword blades. It would be easy, once he was on the ground, for them to finish him off.

So. Don't hit the ground. That was easy. It would have been so easy, to just put spur to the horse and run to the guard post, but Logan stopped and turned to fight. It went against his training as a knight to leave an enemy behind. Besides, he was on the King's business. If these people knew who he was among the other people who had passed along this road, then they surely knew what business he was on. Either these were Gallas's people, sneaked across the border to murder him; or these were traitors to the King, paid to murder him. Both offenses of which were punishable by death or exile. Since it didn't look like they were likely to turn around and ride off, it would be death then. He was a knight; he killed, but he didn't enjoy it. It was a necessity, and one he regretted.

He swung his sword at one brigand, experimentally, trying to gauge how experienced the man was. Not very, apparently; he just barely dodged the swinging blade. The man yelled to his companions, "Hell's fire, men, he's a knight! They told us Richard'd send a page!" That told Logan more about his opponents than anything else. These men had been hired to kill the King's messenger; and that his guess was correct, they had been expecting to ambush a page, not a full knight, experienced in battle. He wheeled his horse and galloped straight at the man who'd yelled. The man misjudged how fast Logan's horse was, and Logan was on him before he could turn and run. A single stab to the chest, his sharp blade passing easily through the hardened leather 'armour' the man wore, and the man was dead.

Two of the other men ran toward Logan, waving their swords and yelling. Logan almost snorted. Amateurs, certainly; no one with experience. He'd learned long ago to save your breath in a battle, not to waste it in foolish yelling. He feinted toward the second man's left side with his sword, and when the man parried toward the incoming blow, Logan changed direction suddenly and ran him through from the left. Without bothering, he swung outward, ripping the blade from the dying man's belly, and swinging it in an arc as he neatly sliced the head from the third man.

The fourth man wore a battered helm made of boiled leather, and carried a short sword.Logan turned toward him, sword raised, but the man dropped his sword and held his hands up, shaking. Logan pointed with his sword. "Off with the helmet," he growled.

The man reached up and lifted the helmet off, and Logan swallowed as he realized the 'man' was no more than a boy. Probably about seventeen, if that old. Not much older. "Wanna live?" Logan growled.

The boy nodded his tousled black curls frantically. "Yeah. I wanna live. Please, sir knight, I don't wanna die. I'll go, I swear I'll go, I don't wanna die…"

Logan swallowed hard." Who hired you?" he jerked his headat the men lying in heaps around them.

The boy shook his head, his voice rising pleadingly. "Please, Sir Knight,I don't know," he gulped apprehensively."That man there, was my cousin...said he'd gotten an offer of money for an errand; I didn't know the errand was gonna be assassination, an'I don't know where he got the money..please, you have to believe me..." Tears welled upin his eyes, and Logan swore to himself.The boy had blue eyes. Not the bright turquoise Jubilee had, but they were still blue. "Get on, then," he said gruffly. "But if I catch ya followin' me, ya ain't gonna see another sunrise. Got me?"

The boy nodded jerkily, staring with wide eyes at Logan's sword. "I swear. I promise. I'm sorry, Sir Knight…"

Logan swore. "Git on outta here, kid." The kid turned and fled.

He dismounted and dragged the three bodies into the copse of trees, rifling them for identification. Nothing noticeable, but in one man's pocket he saw a handkerchief with a family crest embroidered on it. He squinted at the symbol, trying to remember where he'd seen that raven with a spear and a shield before.

Jubilee's sword. Logan shuddered. Why would this man be carrying something with that symbol on it…unless this man, with the stubbly blond beard and long legs was the one who had killed Jubilee's parents and torched the town! That must be it. Logan couldn't remember if the kid had ever mentioned what the murderer looked like, but this man could easily have been the one.

He shoved the handkerchief in his pocket almost absently as he stood and remounted. If this man was employed by Duke Gilbert, was the Duke the traitor? But Gilbert came from a family with a long history of being trusted by the reigning monarchs. Gilbert's father had supported King Richard's bid for the throne over the claims of Prince John; and when Richard had gone off to join the Crusades Gilbert had supported him with money and his finest horses. If Richard couldn't trust Gilbert, then who could he trust?

_First things first_, Logan sighed, putting the question of the duke from his mind._ Get to the Guard post first, and get to the Castle to warn the Queen. It'll be quite soon enough to start looking for the traitor after Richard is back in his castle._

He rode on.


	30. Traitor Duke

Chapter 30: Traitor Duke

Renee sighed to herself as the man kneeling before her continued with his long litany of grievances. It wasn't that she didn't sympathise with the man, but he had the same complaint that the five petitioners before him had.

About three weeks after Richard gathered his knights and all the extra men from the Guard that he could muster, and departed for the border, the raiding from bandits in the east had increased. The small villages along the edge of the great forest had been plagued with a greater than usual number of bandits raiding and burning towns. Ordinarily the contingent of Guard and knights there would have been able to hold them back and keep casualties and damage to a minimum, but such was not the case this time.

The man finished and was looking at her expectantly. She stirred herself and leaned forward. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention," she said quietly, smiling at him in that way that seemed to calm the panicked petitioners down. "I shall send help as soon as I may, and funds to help rebuild and replace what you have lost. The war should not last much longer, and when it is over, be assured that you shall have help rebuilding your village. Now please, you have traveled a long way to get here, and you must be exhausted. David, please escort this man, and the other petitioners who have come here today, to the kitchens and ensure that they are fed and found a place to rest."

The petitioner fell flat on his face. "Thank you, Your Majesty, thank you, you are as wise as you are beautiful…" Renee smiled as she got up and descended the dais, raising the man off his face. "Don't grovel," she said, breaking her façade of the regal Queen to give comfort to a man who needed a plain human touch. "It will be all right. Please, rest and refresh yourselves. Help will come as soon as we may spare it." She watched as the man left the audience chamber with the young Guardsman, David, and said quietly, "My Lord Duke, is it really as bad as all that?"

Behind her, Duke Gilbert stirred. "Yes, Your Majesty, it is," he said with a sigh. "The bandits are becoming bolder and bolder every day the Guard remains at minimum while most of their number are with the King. I have sent members of my own House Guard out to share the burden of law keeping with the regular guard, yet the bandits keep coming. It is simply not enough, Your Majesty, this war must end soon or all the people on my lands will have nowhere to go."

Renee sighed. "I understand, my Lord Duke," she said. "Thank you." She left the audience chamber with a slow tread and a heavy heart. The other guardsman turned and left the room with her.

Gilbert waited until the sound of her footfalls died out along the corridor before exhaling. "And so goes the woman who will, if all goes well, soon be without throne and husband." He smiled as he turned and looked at the chair beside Renee's, the heavy gilding more pronounced than on the Queen's throne. He stood before it for a moment, looking thoughtful, then he turned and swirled his voluminous black cape out around him as he sat. "Quite comfortable," he smiled as he felt the padded leather on the armrest and seat. "I shall enjoy sitting in this chair immensely." He smiled to himself.

He hadn't mentioned to the Queen that the bandits had been paid to raid and plunder the villages. Last autumn he had ordered the leader of the bandits to burn a little town called Brooksmeet to the ground, because their poor tithes hadn't met his expectations. The example had served as an excellent reminder to other towns as to what would happen if they displeased the Duke, and for a time the tithes had been very good. However, the last few months had seen the amount and quality of the tithes drop off, and he had become annoyed to the point where he set the brigands on the towns again. However, this time it seemed that the locals had chosen to take their complaints to the Queen directly, bypassing him altogether. Not a good thing to do. He would have to instruct the bandit leader that the towns of Hereford, Whitehall, and Ilchester were to be burned and sacked. No more reports of raiding would be coming from them.

He frowned. It had been almost a month since Richard had ridden out; shouldn't he have heard something from Gallas by now about the King? He had certainly given Sir Julian more than enough of Gallas's money to ensure the Knight's cooperation in the matter of capturing one of the King's most trusted knights, Sir Logan; so what was keeping him? Gilbert bit his lip in vexation.

"You shall do yourself an injury if you bite so hard, Gilbert," said a rough, sardonic voice from behind him. Gilbert started as a dark shadow glided out from the drapes behind the throne and came around the front of the chair to face him. "And that would cause me grief if you were to die of an infection." The sarcasm in the eyes belied the gravity in the voice.

Gilbert jumped half a foot in the air at the sight of his unwelcome guest. "Hughes!" He gasped out, staring at the leader of the bandits. "What in the names of all the saints are you doing here?"

Hughes grinned, teeth showing whitely in his face. "I decided to surprise you, 'my lord'," he said mockingly, making a sweeping bow before Gilbert. "The messenger came through from king Gallas. I took it upon myself to bring the news to you personally."

"There are folk from Whitehall here seeking an audience with the Queen!" Gilbert said furiously. "Suppose someone recognizes you!"

"They will not," Hughes snorted as he seated himself in Renee's empty chair and leaning back, crossing his arms. "These folk are nothing but sheep, easy pickings for me and mine. They are so terrified now of us that they don't even look up to see who is coming before they run. Or fall on their faces and start begging. I left my second in charge back at your dukedom and came here to see which woman I might claim for my prize when you have taken over."

"I never told you that the highborn women were for the choosing as well," Gilbert hissed. "You have my entire dukedom's worth of peasant women to chose from, and they are quite good enough for you!"

The other man moved so quickly that the knife was at Gilbert's throat before the traitor Duke could even blink. "Insult me not," the man said, his voice low and deadly. "The agreement we made was that I and my men would be able to have our pick of women to take back to our mountain hideaway. Most of the others have chosen; I have not. And you never told me our choices were to be confined to peasants only. If I wish to take the Queen to our hideaway I will do so, unless you want me to tell everyone here what you have paid me and mine to do, and tell everyone the message I have for you from Gallas."

Gilbert held his breath, lest the knife dimpling his skin should actually cut him. "Any woman," he agreed sulkily. "But it was my understanding that you wanted a woman who was accustomed to hardship, so that she wouldn't die on you when you got her to your mountain village. These highborn women wouldn't last a minute. But if they're what you want, you can have your choice. Only give me the message."

Hughes sat back, satisfied, and started to trim a hangnail with that knife. "Gallas sends you his regards via a messenger," he said silkily. "The knight you paid to capture Richard's Sir Logan did what he was supposed to. However, through his subsequent carelessness, Sir Logan escaped."

Gilbert rose with a curse. The man stopped him with a casually raised knife. "The knight knows what Gallas's plans are. He rode back with all due haste to Richard's camp, however, the spies told Gallas that when the man got there he was in very poor shape indeed. He could barely stay on the horse. Gallas told me Richard would send a page here to the castle to inform the Queen of the conspiracy against the throne while he gathered his company for the trip back to the castle. Gallas bids you tell the Queen that Richard has been killed in the fighting, and suggest to the Queen that you take the reins of government until she has done with grieving."

"If the page gets through the point will be moot…"

"He will not get through," Hughes said silkily. "I sent three of my men to intercept the boy. He will get no farther than the Guard post at Dunheath. But you had best go and break the news to the Queen as quickly as you can."

"I shall," Gilbert said, rising out of the king's throne. "You had better hurry back to your men."

"I am in no hurry," the man drawled. "I shall stay here awhile and look about at the women here. And I have also used some of the coin stolen from those villagers to order a new sword made. A sword like yours."

Gilbert turned purple. "That was good smithcraft steel," he spluttered. "Worth more than you could steal in a year. You asked me for the other one as the price for hiring you; what happened to it?"

Hughes shrugged. "I lost it in the first skirmish. A young girl interrupted me while I was killing her parents, and I turned to deal with her. When I went back I could not find the sword. Don't worry," he said. "I told the smith that it was for you. I told him I was your man running errands for you. When I leave here I will go to the suite of rooms you have and choose for myself a suit of clothes in your colors. Until I leave I'll be your man."

Gilbert ground his teeth in anger at Hughes' arrogance, but spun away from him and left the room. Behind him he could hear Hughes' soft chuckle; he had to fight to compose his face into a suitably grave expression, and hurried toward the Queen's suite.

Logan slid off the horse, and his legs almost immediately buckled. He'd ridden as fast and hard as he could since he got a fresh horse at the Guard post at the city gate. The horse was breathing hard from its headlong rush through the city, but it was his rider who was really the exhausted one. Logan had had maybe a total of twelve hours' sleep the last four days; his entire body cried out for rest. His back, with its barely-healed welts, stung with the dust and sweat on it, but he didn't stop. He was being driven onward by a sense of urgency he couldn't explain.

"No!" he said, holding up a hand to ward off the member of the guard who hurried forward, clearly ready to expel this dusty peasant who had just dashed into the courtyard of the castle looking much the worse for wear. "Please…I have urgent news that must be delivered to the Queen.'

"The morning audience is over, you'll have to wait…" the Guard started to say.

"It cannot wait," Logan fumbled in his pocket for the heavy gold King's signet, which he'd kept hidden. His eyes blurred with pain and exhaustion, and his numb fingers almost dropped the ring as he pulled it out of his pocket. He handed it to the guard.

The guard squinted at it, looking doubtful. Logan fumbled with his pocket again, this time producing the tiny gold band Jubilee had given him. "Here. This is from one of her spies. I must see the Queen! Quickly!"

The guard squinted at it, and one of the serving maids came over at his gesture. She gasped when she saw the ring. "He speaks truth. He's one of the Queen's spies," she said quickly. "I have one of those too. Take him up to Renee, quickly!" Logan forced his aching, tired legs to mount the steps to the Queen's suite behind the Guard.

Renee gasped as her door flew open without even a token knock. She opened her mouth, ready to upbraid the guard who stood in the door, but the words died on her lips as she stared at the knight who staggered into the room and fell limply to his knees at her feet. One hand held out two objects to her, both of which she recognized as soon as she saw them. She fell to her knees, grasping the heavy signet and the thin gold band as she said, "Sir Logan, I am here. Speak freely, you are among friends."

"A traitor," the man gasped out. "There's a traitor in the castle…a duke…he means ta take the castle from ya 'fore the King comes back. Richard is all right, he's safe, I got the ring from his own hand. He's at Argonne Keep, headin' here as we speak. Don't give in. Hold the city, Renee. Put no faith in rumours of his death, 'cause they ain't true." He sagged a little lower, as if some of the terrible weight of his news were gone. "He said…ta tell ya he loves ya…and if all goes wrong, keep yerself safe." Then he slumped to the floor in a dead faint.

Renee barely noticed. Her hands turned the two rings over in her hands. Richard's Seal of State; and the ring she had given Sir Logan's squire when she commissioned the girl to spy for her. She clenched her fist around both rings and stood up, determination written all over her face. "Edward," she told the Guard grimly. "Say nothing of this to anyone. Take this man to the Healer's quarters, and have the healer tend him. Dress him in the colors of the Guard; no one must know he is here. If anyone recognizes him for one of Richard's knights, tell them to say nothing. There is a traitor in the castle, and word of this man's arrival must go no further than those who must know."

"Your majesty…what will you do?" The man may have been skeptical, but the fact that Renee seemed to have believed the man convinced the guard.

Renee's face tightened. "I must hold the castle somehow, until Richard comes. This man says Richard is on his way; we must hold on till he gets here. Call in every member of the Guard you can from the city. I need the castle guarded. All audiences are ended; only those members of the staff who need to leave are permitted to go in and out of the castle. Everyone else stays out." The man nodded, and grabbed the short knight in front of Renee, slinging him over his shoulder (well, Edward was a good six and a half feet tall; Logan was not that much a burden on the Guardsman) and walked out of the room, shutting the door.

Out in the hall, he ran right into a noble, dressed in a black cloak. He sighed when the noble refused to stand aside. "I am on business for the Queen," Edward rumbled. "I must get this knight to a healer immediately."

Gilbert was about to brush by the man and continue on to Renee's room, but paused when he heard the word 'Knight'. He took a closer look at the unconscious man's face, and blinked in shock. It was Sir Logan; despite the dusty traveling clothes and grey-streaked hair, it was clearly the knight who had escaped from Gallas's fortress a week ago. He stared, then hurried after the Guard as the man went down to the Healer's rooms. There, he slipped into the shadows beside the door and listened through the half open door.

"Sir Logan!" The healer was plainly shocked. "What is he doing here? I thought he was on the battlefield with the king?"

"Brought an urgent message for the Queen," the Guardsman said. "She said he told her there's a traitor in the castle who's going to try and take the castle in Richard's absence. He had the King's signet and one of the rings belonging to the Queen's spies too. She told me to dress him in Guard colors and hide him among the Guard until Richard comes home. No one's to know he's a knight. And she ordered the castle sealed, too. No one in or out but the palace staff."

The healer shook his head. "Thank goodness the king is coming," he said fervently, then started to examine the man. "He's been tortured, poor man; and he's starved, exhausted, and in need of a bath and a long sleep…" Gilbert didn't wait to hear more; he turned and fled down the hall.

As he ran he revised his plans furiously. The plan was scrapped now, damn that knight! How had he gotten away from Gallas and ended up here? He'd have to see what he could do about getting Hughes into the knight's quarters to assassinate him…no. Renee knew there was a traitor in her castle; he didn't need to attract attention. He'd have to smuggle a message out somehow, to Gallas, telling him what had happened and asking for further instructions. This plan to take over the kingdom had failed; Gallas had to come up with another one. In the meantime Gilbert would have to lie low. And Hughes…Hughes would have to play his manservant in earnest now, because if he was caught sneaking around where a manservant wouldn't normally go, suspicions might be raised that Gilbert didn't want to explain.

He burst into his room just as Hughes was buckling a wide leather belt over a long tunic. The dark, swarthy bandit grinned. "Like it?"

"No time for that now, fool!" Gilbert hissed. "The knight that escaped Gallas is here. He's just given the Queen the King's signet and told her to hold the castle until Richard comes, which he's doing now. The Queen's ordered the castle sealed. No one comes in or goes out but the servers and staff. That's it. The plan's scrapped. We'll have to wait until the king comes back and I can get instructions from Gallas about what to do next." He shook a finger at the bandit leader's face. "You'll have to stay here with me. Stay low. Play the part of my manservant until we know what is going on and until we hear from Gallas. Got me?"

Hughes nodded.


	31. Plans

Chapter 31: Plans

The cheers from the city were the first indication that something was going on. Renee leaped up from the unconscious knight's bedside, and ran to the casement window, throwing the shutters open to see out.

The castle was built at the top of a hill, and the city sprawled out below her. Bright sunlight was glinting off a forest of spears and polished armour; although she knew that Richard had had to leave some knights at the border, there was enough metal on the ones with the king to make an outside observer think there was more men than there actually were. She lost no time, turning away from the window and racing for the front hall.

King Richard frowned at the closed castle drawbridge, but was reassured by the presence of the Guardsmen hurrying to lower the massive slab of wood that made up the drawbridge. And when the bridge finally did fall into place and she rode through he was met in the courtyard by the Queen and a handful of assembled nobles. Renee cried out, "Welcome home!" and went to one knee. Richard ignored everything but the sight of his kneeling wife. He ran to her, gripped her shoulders fiercely as he drew her up from her position, and crushed her in a hug. "I was worried," he said into her ear as they shared what, to everyone else, looked like a kiss. As loud cheering broke out, he whispered, "Sir Logan got through?"

She kissed him back, whispering against his cheek, "Yes, he did. He was exhausted when he got here. He's been asleep the last three days. The Healer says he'll scar from the torture he's been through, but he'll be okay…when he wakes up. Richard…the traitor; who is it?"

Richard shook his head. "I know not," he said quietly. "We need to talk. Come." He turned to the assembled company. "We are sure Our knights would like to refresh themselves and rest from the journey. We have much to discuss with Our Queen; so make yourselves at home." The Knights dismounted to the accompaniment of hearty, tired cheers, and started to remove various pieces of armour, handing them to the squires, while the palace staff hurried to unload the wagon that held Richard's camp cook.

Renee started to lead Richard upstairs, but he shook his head, instead taking her down to the healer's wing. "Which room is he in?" he asked the Healer.

"This way," the man said, leading him down a little-used hall and to a room at the end. "In accordance with Her Majesty's wishes, he has been dressed in Guard colors and his identity kept secret. He has also been asleep these last few days, so it has not been hard. Very few people know he is here at all."

The Healer opened the door to the room, and Richard and Renee stepped in. Logan was still sprawled out, asleep in the bed, his snores filling the room. The healer smiled. "Sir Logan, you have visitors." He reached down and gently shook the knight's shoulder. "Wake up."

Logan felt the shaking on his shoulder, and began to fight his way up through the layers of sleep fogging his mind, only too glad to leave the dreams behind. In those dreams a voice cried out for help, begging him to come back, and they were disturbing his sleep because he felt like he had to find the owner of that voice.

Almost as soon as he opened his eyes, the dreams fled. Instead, he found himself looking into two pairs of kindly brown eyes, one woman and one man, and both people had gold fillets around their brows. "Yer Majesties," he said weakly, trying to get up. But he was miserably weak, and barely able to push himself up.

Richard held up a hand. "Please, Sir Logan, do not try to rise. Lie quiet. I merely asked the healer to wake you so that I might find out the full story from you. We had not sufficient time before at Argonne Keep; we have plenty now. We are back at the castle, and it is safe from invaders. Now, please tell me your story, from the beginning."

Logan lay back against the pillow. "Julian was the traitor among the knights. Just as the first battle was endin', when Gallas blew the trumpet fer his side ta retreat, Julian come up behind me an' knocked me out. He grabbed my horse's reins and hauled me off the battlefield, takin' me into the woods on the far side o' the field. I 'spect that he had some kinda prearranged signal with Gallas, or maybe he saw Julian leavin'. I don't know.

"Anyway, Julian led me off. My squire saw us leave. Apparently he'd been lookin' fer me in the aftermath o' the battle. He followed Julian an' me. When Julian made camp that night, after he'd fallen asleep Lee untied me an' we tried ta make our escape. Julian caught him an' threatened ta kill him if I didn't return. So I got off the horse and came back." And now wished he hadn't, but that wasn't a detail he wanted to share with the King. "It took three days fer Julian ta take us ta Gallas's keep; Gallas met us there. He made better time comin' off the battle front than we did, 'cause Lee had ta walk. Julian dragged him behind his horse most o' the way." Fresh in his mind was the picture of Jubilee panting in the dust behind Julian's horse, sagging in her bonds and almost dead on her feet. Logan shuddered. She was a girl…no woman should be treated thus. And how had she borne it without weeping and complaining, as most women would have? She'd been stoically silent through most of the long, torturous walk. Silent, even, when she'd been dragged.

"Gallas met us there. Julian told him who we were, an' told Gallas we was a 'present from the Duke'. He had us taken down ta the dungeons. They stripped us an' shackled us." Beside Richard, Renee's gaze sharpened, and she looked hard at him. He didn't understand her look, and she said nothing, so he continued with his story. He wasn't about to tell everyone that 'Lee' was a girl. He'd be laughed at for not realizing it sooner. She was his squire, wasn't she? "Gallas had me tortured that first day; he wanted ta know where the borders was the weakest, and what yer plans were. He also wanted ta know who else in the castle was the Queen's spy." He grimaced. "I didn't know any o' that. I told him I didn't know any more'n Julian did, an' that as far as the Queen's spies went, I didn't know what he was talkin' about. I didn't tell him that Lee was yer spy, Your Majesty. They'd'a tortured him. I dunno how the kid hid yer ring; I didn't see it when they stripped us, but he musta hidden it somewhere on him." The girl was clever, for a girl, at least. "They took me back ta the cell at suppertime. Gallas wanted to be present at my torture so he could catch anything I might say in the middle o' all the pain." And such pain! Logan remembered screaming as the iron bar bruised his kidneys. He'd come so close to telling them Jubilee was the spy at that time. If he had been capable of putting coherent words together, he would have, to stop the pain. But the agony had been overwhelming, and he'd been unable to think or speak.

"So they tossed me back in the cell…" Logan paused as his mind dredged up a memory. Jubilee, that night…after all the harsh words he'd said to her, after he'd screamed at her about betrayal, she had sat there all night while he lay feverish from pain and weak from blood loss and agony, and had used scraps from her own uniform to wipe the blood from his body and clean him off. She'd sat all night with his head in her lap, stroking his hair as he moaned, giving him water when he needed it, soothing him and singing to him when he cried with the pain. She had cared about him. Truly cared. If she hadn't, she wouldn't have done that, after all the things he'd said to her. The thought disturbed him more than he cared to admit, so he put it from his mind. For now. "The next morning, sh—Lee told 'em ta take him, not me. An' Julian told me Gallas was too busy ta attend ta me today, an' he took Lee instead. I didn't see Lee after that fer almost a week. Durin' that time Gallas took me back ta the torture chamber four times. I came back from one session with him an' there Lee was. Julian brought him down ta taunt me. The boy struck a deal with Julian; probably offered ta become Julian's squire, 'cause he was dressed in fine clothes, an' looked bathed and rested." Anger filled his voice and thickened his words. "I told the boy I didn't wanna see him anymore, 'cause he was a traitor and had gone over ta the enemy. I threatened ta kill him if I ever saw him again."

Logan paused. "I didn't see him again fer a couple o' days. One night I heard a commotion in the dungeons, an' other prisoners suddenly started ta run past my cell. Lee unlocked my cell, told me that sh--he had my horse saddled an' waitin' in the courtyard, and gave me some clothes ta put on. I thought maybe he might be tellin' the truth this time, 'specially when he gave me that little spy's ring. I figured that if Yer Majesty gave it ta him, ya musta decided that he was trustworthy enough ta use as one o' yer spies. I took the ring, put it in my pocket, an' followed the boy out o' the prison block. There was a horse outside…but as I mounted, a whole buncha Gallas's soldiers came out after me." He bit his lip in anger. "It was a set up. Had ta have been. The little traitor set me up to get caught again. An' when he realized I knew bout it, he drew a sword an' tried to fight the soldiers. While they was busy with him, I fled. Finally dropped at some farm woman's doorstep, an' she took me in, disguised me, let me rest while her man doctored up my horse same's they did my hair, and gave me some food. After that, I just rode straight fer Argonne, didn't stop nowhere."

Richard sighed and took up the thread of the story for Renee. "When he got to camp he told us that during the course of his questioning, Gallas let slip his plans. While I was busy on the battlefield, the traitor in the palace would tell you I had died, and you would go into seclusion to grieve. He would take over the castle and secure it for Gallas. By the time I came back they intended me to be left with nothing; no throne, no kingdom, and no Queen. I urgently needed to get a message to you; Logan was the only one I could spare. The losses on the battlefield were heavy." He kissed Renee's cheek. "He got here in time to warn you, and because of him I still have my lands, my Queen, and my crown. Sir Logan," he said, "I owe you a very great debt. Be assured, when this is over, I shall repay you in full. What has happened to your brave squire?"

"Left him back there pretendin' ta fight the soldiers," Logan growled. "Never wanna see him again."

The King frowned. "Sir Logan, I think you might be angry about something, because what you have said… it isn't reasonable. Why would the boy betray you? If he wanted to set you up for a disappointment, try to make you think you could get away when you couldn't, why have your horse saddled and waiting? Wouldn't it have made sense to try to escape on foot, and be captured later? For that matter, maybe it would have been more expedient never to do it at all. Might you perhaps be wrong? If Renee gave her spy ring to the boy, it means she trusted him."

Logan sighed. "I been askin' myself that all the way here, Yer Majesty, an' right now I can say nothin' but that I don't know. It seemed simple at the time, but some of it don't make sense now I think 'bout it. I wish the boy was here ta ask."

The Healer popped his head in. "Your Majesty, the rest of the castle and the Lords' Council are demanding to know why you're here instead of consulting with them. What shall I tell them?"

"I am coming," Richard said, standing up. "Sir Logan, we will talk later. Renee, come with me, please." Logan closed his eyes and sank back into the bed.

The Healer came back moments later. "Sir Logan, now that the need for anonymity has passed, you might be more comfortable resting in your room. Patients have come in the wagon train with the king; every bed is needed."

Logan grinned as he swung his legs carefully over the side of the bed. He was still weak, but witht he help of the pain-killing brews the Healer had been pouring into him, he could keep the pain under control."So I'm getting kicked out, eh? Don't worry, I'll leave peacefully." He gathered up his clothes and straightened the bed before he left.

He was resting comfortably in his room later when he heard a gentle knock on the door. "Come in," he said, wondering who on earth would be disturbing him at that hour.

The door opened, and Vincet came in, holding a sword. "I thought I'd return this to you," he said quietly. Logan took it, and realized it was the short sword he'd given Lee. "It's…"

"Lee's sword, I know," Vincet said quietly. "He left it sitting beside me on the battlefield when he found me wounded. It was an accident, I think. I swore I'd keep it until I saw him again, and give it back to him. But since he's not with you…" Vincet swallowed hard. "Logan, what happened?"

Logan sat down and told the other knight what he had told the King. Vincet sat quietly as he finished, and there was silence for a while. Then, "So you didn't actually see the boy die," Vincet said quietly.

Logan shook his head. "No, but trust me, he's most definitely dead," Logan said.

"How do you know, if you didn't see it yourself?" Vincet said angrily, getting up to pace the room. "You have a life debt owed to the boy, Logan. If he wasn't dead when you left him, then you abandoned him to almost certain death. And that means I'd have to call oathbreaking on you, and I'm going to have to fight you."

"I've broken no oaths!" Logan half-rose, indignant. That was the one thing he'd been certain of; he hadn't broken his oath. "The oath is null!"

"Why?" Vincet spun on his heel, turning to face Logan. "Because Lee is a girl? Yes, Logan, I know about that. I found out the night after she pulled your drowning body from the river!"

Logan sat down on the bed, stunned. "What?"

Vincet flung himself down on the bed in the opposite corner of the room. "It's true. I was on guard duty that night. You were sleeping. The boy came out of your tent and went to wash the mud and grit out of his clothes at the creek, and then stripped and stepped in to wash himself. And I saw Lee wasn't a 'he', Lee was a she. And her name was Jubilee. I sat and talked to her for a while. I know about her secret, Logan."

"Then you know the life debt was sworn to a boy named Lee, not a girl named Jubilee. And since Lee doesn't exist, the life-debt is null." Logan sat back.

"Not true," came a deep voice from the door. Neither man had noticed, while they had been talking, that the weaponsmaster was standing in the opening, arms crossed, looking stern. Logan leaped to his feet. After the King and Queen, the Weaponsmaster was the one man the Knights respected above any other person in the castle. "Sir!"

"Sit down." The Weaponsmaster walkedin and closed the door. "I was walking by, and I heard. Let me have a few words with you." He looked at Vincet. "Both of you."

Logan sat down on his bed, and Vincet sat on Lee's bed. The Weaponsmaster sat in the chair and looked at them both. "I always thought there was something odd about that boy," he said mildly. "Too pretty to be a boy. Well, at least now I know my instinct was right." He sighed. "Logan, I take it you didn't know until you were captured, right?" Logan nodded. "It must have come as a shock. You probably wondered how you'd managed to not notice after all this time with the boy, eh?" Another nod. "What happened? Not the whole story, just what happened while you were imprisoned." Logan told the story of his and Jubilee's imprisonment, this time including the horrible moment when he found out his Squire's true identity, the dim recollection he had of Jubilee stroking his hair that first terrible night after he'd been tortured, and then Jubilee's desperate cry when he had started to ride away without her.

Vincet was staring at Logan when he finished. "You blind, stupid fool," he said bitterly. "You absolute, blind, stupid fool."

Logan bristled, but Vincet rushed on. "She didn't make a deal with Julian to save her skin, she did it because she was trying to save both of yours! She slept with him to get his guard down so you both could escape! And you left her there!" He got up and paced frantically around the room, cursing under his breath. When he turned to face Logan, his eyes were hot. "And you left her back there, knowing she's going to face death."

"She conspired with Julian. Julian will protect her." Logan crossed his arms stubbornly.

Vincet's fist came out of nowhere, and crashed against Logan's jaw. Logan fell backward on the bed, hitting the top of his head against the wall as pain erupted in his jaw. "Hey!" he said, startled.

Vincet stood there, looking down at Logan, fists clenched. "You fool," he repeated bitterly. "Your anger's blinding you to the truth. Do you honestly think Julian's going to trust her after what she did? She's going to be put back in the dungeons, and tortured. Horribly. What they did to you will be child's play compared to what they'll do to her. May have done already. Julian holds grudges, Logan. Listen. A few months back, he told a serving wench at the Hunting Horn Tavern he wanted her in his bed that night. The girl was still a virgin, she said no. Julian lost his temper. He broke his chair when he shoved it over, and he picked up a broken leg off that chair and marched her upstairs to the rooms. We heard a lot of screaming. When he finished with her two hours later, he came down and gave the tavern keeper three gold pieces to pay him for the chair, the drink, and the girl. We went up with the tavern keeper to see what happened." Vincet swallowed hard. "He raped her, Logan. Raped her and beat her with the wooden chair leg so badly she lost a few teeth. And her leg was broken. She'll walk with a limp for the rest of her life because of Julian's temper. But he carefully left her insides uninjured. He could have killed her, but he didn't. He maimed her. Now what do you think he's going to do with Jubilee, now that he has her and has an entire torture chamber to use on her?"

Logan looked at Vincet. "He wouldn't." He shook his head, feeling like he was drowning. "He wouldn't. He couldn't. He's a knight. He's sworn to protect women and children."

"Tell that to the girl who walks with a limp and a malformed leg, and who now has no hope of a future because of him." Vincet said tonelessly.

The guilt Logan had been feeling suddenly crashed in on him. "Oh God." He buried his face in his hands. Over the past few days, while he had been sleeping and recovering, had Jubilee been executed? "I hope he killed her quickly," he said, his eyes haunted as he looked up at Vincet.

Vincet cursed. "Logan, he's not going to let her die," he said angrily. "Don't you understand? From what you've said they were talking about, Julian was supposed to become a Duke as the price for delivering you to Gallas. He's going to be so furious at the loss of that promised power he'll keep her alive just to torture her for being the cause. He'll turn her life into a living hell, and he won't let her die to escape it. Because you left her there."

Logan buried his face in his hands. "What have I done?" he moaned. In his mind's eye, he saw again the blue eyes looking up at him from the bank of the river. He heard again that voice saying, 'I lost everyone I ever cared for once, I couldn't let it happen again.'

"I have to go get her. I have to bring her back. I swore a life-debt to her, I have to find her." He rose unsteadily on his feet, his face white with shock, and reached for his sword. The weaponsmaster put out a hand, catching his sleeve. "I have to go!" he said, suddenly frantic. "Let me go!"

"Not until we've put together a plan," came a new voice from the door. Female, this time. The three men looked up, and saw Renee standing in the doorway. "I heard. Sir Logan, I knew her identity also. Which is why I will supply what you need to rescue her. She is my spy, I am also responsible for her. She cannot stay where she is. If she is still alive, we have to get her out. Sit down, and let us talk."

They sat down.


	32. Getting To The Fortress

Chapter 32: Getting To the Fortress

"I swear in God's name and in the name of King Richard, my true liege, that I will serve him faithfully and well, to the best of my ability, and also his Queen, Renee. I shall have no other lords besides my King, and no one else shall lay claim to my sword and service." The knight in front of the King and kissed his ring, and Richard tapped his shoulder gently with his own sword.

"Rise, Sir Frederick, and take your place in the rank of my Knights." The knight rose and stepped to the side of the dais, joining the knot of other men grouped on the platform.

"Approach, Duke Gilbert."

Gilbert stepped up to the dais and knelt. King Richard had decided to try and root out the traitor by having everyone in court reaffirm their loyalties to him, starting with his personal Guard and knights, then the nobles and the other functionaries of the court. Logan, standing first in line in his new armour, looked very hard indeed at the Duke. But there was nothing to fault with his recitation of loyalty; he seemed as sincere as anyone else. So were the other nobles. The only one Logan frowned on was the elderly Duke of Westfall, and the old man's hesitation might well be due to his advancing age.

Minor court functionaries and hangers' on were slightly more interesting. There was one, a vassal to Duke Gilbert, who made Logan's hackles rise. He was a tall, burly, swarthy man, dark of skin and eye and hair, with an arrogance and hauteur that made Logan want to challenge him. However, the man bowed as low as everyone else did, and swore the oath as quickly and as firmly as anyone else did, so he couldn't call the man out for disrespect.

Beside him, Vincet stirred. "That dark man—I don't like him, Logan."

Logan shook his head almost imperceptibly. "I don't either. I've never seen him before, an' I thought I knew everyone in the palace. Keep an eye on him fer the King while I'm gone, eh?"

Vincet nodded. His voice sounded wistful as he said, 'I still wish I could go with you."

Logan grinned. "Looking for the adventure or the girl?"

"Both," Vincet grinned back. "The girl rather more, though. But you have that end pretty well covered, don't you?"

As the King dismissed the assembled people, Logan turned to look suspiciously at Vincet. "What are ya talkin' 'bout?"

Vincet sighed. "Logan, when I called you blind earlier…well, I got it right, didn't I." He sighed again. "As much as she likes me, the girl only has eyes for you. She's in love with you. I haven't got a chance with her next to you."

Logan's jaw dropped. "She said she was…in love…with me?"

Vincet grinned. "She didn't have to say it. It's written all over her. The way she jumps when you call her name. The care and attention she gives your stuff. The way she fixes your clothes and things. The way she'd always ready to run and get you anything you ask for. While we were on the road you'd tell her, you needed something…and you had it. She thought nothing of stopping her horse and unpacking everything on it, and then repacking it all, if you said there was something you wanted. She thought nothing of staying up all night oiling and cleaning your saddles and bridles so it would all look good and you would look presentable. If a girl's willing to work her fingers to the bone for you she loves you."

"She does, now? Who?" said an amiable voice from behind them, and both knights turned, then went down on one knee; for King Richard was standing behind them. "I hope someday I get a chance to meet the lucky girl who's willing to care for you. So, now, what did you wish to speak to me about? Renee said there was something you had to say."

Logan rose and looked into he King's eye. "Respectfully, Yer Majesty, I will haveta leave yer service fer a while," he said evenly. "I request your permission."

Richard blinked for a moment, obviously startled. "May I ask why?" he said finally. "My kingdom has been decimated by the wars, and there is an unidentified traitor in my court. I need all my knights right now, I can hardly spare any of them, let alone you. If it is a matter of a pretty lass--"

"No, Yer Majesty," Logan said, thinking _you're half-right there_. "When I left Gallas's fortress, my squire was left behind. I owed a life-debt to the boy. I must go back, and see if he is still alive."

"If he was left behind in enemy territory, he may not still be alive," Richard said quietly. Logan nodded.

"I know, yer majesty, but a travelin' caravan of deserters from over the border came in last night, and they brought with them a story about a squire being held and punished for treachery in Gallas's fortress. I believe the boy may be my squire. I had to leave him in order to get word out ta ya, but since things have now died down and ya don't need me as desperately, I wanna go find the boy. If I don't I'll have broken my oath to the boy. And I will not be an oathbreaker."

Richard sighed. "Honor. It is a double edged sword, is it not?" Without waiting for an answer he nodded. "Very well. You have my leave to go. Have you a plan for getting in and out with the boy?"

Logan nodded. He, the Weaponsmaster, Vincet, and the Queen had been up most of the night planning how to get the boy out. Logan knew it was certain death for him if he was caught; but for Jubilee's sake, he had to try.

He would ride to Argonne. Once there, he would don the discarded armour and clothes of one of Gallas's knights and slip into the retreating army's force of knights until they reached Gallas's fortress. He would pretend then be able to slip away from them and head for the dungeons where Jubilee would almost certainly be. He'd then take her and flee the castle, running for the border until they got over it, and another horse would be waiting for him at the Guard post just outside Argonne, and he'd claim that horse, put Lee on it, and they'd ride back to the castle. Something would have to be done about her identity once back here…but Logan was worried mostly about the rescue. After he got her out, then they could worry about what to do.

Richard nodded. "So be it. Go well, and hasten back, Sir Logan."

The midday sun was burning, out here past the city walls. Logan sighed. He hated traveling at the height of summer, when the sun was hottest; he much preferred winter snows; or, even better, the cool autumn breezes. He hated heat. _Well, at least I don't have to wear armour_, he thought.

He stopped at an inn and used some of the money the Queen had provided for the journey to purchase himself a meal. The inn was one of the ones recommended by Vincet as one that the members of the Guard frequented, and it would therefore be reasonably clean, with good food.

The noon meal served at this tavern was bread and a thick, hearty stew with more meat than vegetables, in a rich flavorful broth. He was in the middle of his second helping when a serving maid walked past his table, smiling at him, and he saw the dark hair and a flash of blue eyes. The stew stuck in his throat, and his mouth went dry.

He put the hunk of bread down, feeling suddenly inexplicably guilty. He was here wolfing down good food, bread, and ale…and meanwhile Jubilee was in a filthy, dank cell, probably suffering thirst and hunger while her body throbbed with pain. He swallowed the last of the stew with difficulty, and drank down the last of the ale. Slipping the bread into his pack, he left the inn quickly behind, trying to put as much distance between his stops as possible. When he finally stopped, well after dark at another Guard-recommended inn, he was too tired to eat much and simply fell into the bed, exhausted, to sleep.

He woke hollow eyed and still tired the next morning. His sleep had been racked with dreams, bad ones. In them, all of them, was Jubilee, crying, screaming, pleading with him to save her. He stumbled down the stairs to the common room, and the innkeeper, a smiling, round woman with ruddy cheeks brought a bowl of porridge and a tankard of strong ale. She wiped her hands on her apron after she put his bowl down and smiled kindly at him. "Bad dreams, young Knight?" she said quietly.

Logan sighed. "Yeah, they were bad," he said, smiling at her nevertheless. "A friend I care about deeply is in Gallas's Keep, an' I keep hearin' him callin' fer me in my dreams."

Her gaze sharpened. "You're Sir Logan, then?"

He narrowed his eyes. "How did ya know?"

She sighed and leaned her arms on the high table. "An innkeeper overhears things when she's bringing folks their dinner, that she does," she said. "And last night I heard a pair of guards talking about having to make travel arrangements for a knight to cross the border to rescue a squire who got left behind when the knight escaped Gallas to warn good King Richard of a traitor's plan."

Logan blinked. "They knew about it already?" he asked.

The woman nodded. "The guardsmen told me to look for a young knight with a black horse, and to give him room and food for half price. They were sent by the Queen, they said, to make sure you had what you need. The boy was the Queen's spy, one of them said, and she wanted to make sure the lad got back across the border."

Logan was stunned. For the news to be this far ahead of him…after they'd parted two nights ago Renee must have sent messengers on ahead. She must indeed care. What other secrets might Jubilee be carrying, for Renee to be so concerned? "Thank you, Mistress," he said finally, courteously. "I shall inform the Queen that she is served well by those in her kingdom." He bowed over the plump matron's hand as gallantly as a courtier over a princess's hand, and the woman giggled, flattered at the attention. She even gave Logan a small food pack to take with him, containing a meat pie and some hot bread rolls, fresh and hot from the oven, and some dried traveler's meat. "You just bring that lad back along this way when you have him," she said with a wink. "Let me see if he's worthy of serving the Queen."

Logan grinned. "Will do, Madam," he said, and swept his hat off to her as he rode off. And at the next inn he stopped at, he got the same reception; the guardsmen had been and gone, and left the same instructions. When he reached the Argonne border a few days later he was surprised to find they knew who he was and what errand he was on as well.

The battlefield, once encompassing the entire valley, was now confined to a single field just outside the town. Gallas's forces had been distracted when their King had departed the field to go to his fortress and interrogate Logan and Jubilee, and as a result had sustained heavy losses. Logan stared at the number of crosses on the floor of that valley, noted how many of them were decorated with scraps of green cloth and how many were decorated with red cloth, and noted how many of the former there were. As their numbers had dwindled, the number of red-clad knights decreased as well, as Richard ordered them away from the battlefront and out to various places that needed knights, like the border were bandit raiding was increasing.

He brought news from the capital, which was welcome by those who were left, and that night he was wined and dined on the best fare the knights had access to while he told all of them what had happened since they had come to the border a month and a half ago to fight Gallas. He did his best to minimize the role he had played, but the knights insisted on cheering him as a hero of the Kingdom. Logan was embarrassed at the attention. "Stop that," he insisted, but all that did was make the cheering and revelry increase. He finally gave up on them and went off to bed. This time, whether it was from the amount of ale he'd been given to drink or the Fates finally understanding that he was going to rescue Jubilee, he had no dreams.

He woke the next morning, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and sighing…then he saw the green and blue clothing slung across the back of a chair, and at the thought of his mission he came fully awake.

He scrambled into the borrowed garb, and clumsily donned the armour Gallas's knights wore. It had been made for a man taller than he, and it itched and chafed a bit, but there was nothing he could do about it. He went down the stairs of the keep and ate the morning common meal with the others and went out to the stables to saddle his horse. It felt extremely odd to have to do this himself; he was so used to Jubilee doing it that his hands were unexpectedly clumsy with the straps and fastenings of his horse's trappings. When he was finally done he climbed onto the horse and rode out to the battlefield.

He and the weaponsmaster had discussed this part at length, but the Weaponsmaster hadn't taken into account that the battle was no longer being fought in the valley, but on the plain above it. There were no trees for Logan to hide in, no way to join the troops as they retreated from the battle front. No way for him to insinuate himself among the soldiers.

"Ta hell with the plans," he muttered to himself. Dismounting, he removed all the horse's fancy tacking, leaving only the plain bridle, saddle, and blanket. He took the green blanket off his horse and turned it over to reveal the white lining, and put that on the horse. Then he stripped off his armour and tied it into a pack he slung over the black stallion's withers. Remounting, he picked his way unnoticed down the side of the valley, rode his horse across the floor, trying not to step on any of the hummocks of dirt that indicated where a body lay, and made his way up the other side.

He flowed the same route Julian had taken to get to the keep; he rather suspected that Gallas had gone a different way, seeing as how he'd been able to reach the fortress before Julian, Logan, and Jubilee did, but Logan didn't know how, and he wasn't about to try an alternate travel path with Jubilee's freedom depending on him. He kept to the path, galloping his horse through the trees along the path he'd followed before, and by the time it was too dark to see his way through the forest he saw he'd arrived at the place where Jubilee had tried to free him and Julian had caught her. He hadn't planned on being out here at night, and so hadn't thought to bring a blanket with him, but it was all right; he didn't get much sleep anyway. He spent most of the night staring with haunted eyes at the spot where Julian had stood and beaten Lee almost a month ago. He could still hear the boy's anguished cries as Julian twisted the arrow in his shoulder.

As soon as the light grew bright enough that he could fasten the saddle girth, he tacked up his horse and mounted, turning the horse toward Gallas's fortress.

He came out of the trees as the sun rose over the road that stretched in front of him. Before him, shimmering in the heat, Gallas's stone fortress loomed over the flat plain, an imposing, forbidding building of spires and towers. If he rode fast and hard, he might be able to make it to the fortress by midday.

He was about to spur his horse into a run when he stopped. It wouldn't work. He'd have to be ready for a quick escape, a fast ride out of the fortress, if he were caught taking Jubilee out of the dungeons. So his horse would have to be as fresh as possible if he wanted to make some speed out of the fortress.

So. How to get in?

The looks on the townspeople's faces as he rode through told Logan a lot about what Gallas's knights were like off duty. Mothers shoved their small children back inside doors and hid them out of sight as they stood defensively in front of the doors. Young maids hurried to hide themselves, or if they weren't close to something they could hide behind they stood still and stared at the ground, trying to make themselves as inconspicuous as possible. Men with pretty wives hustled them into the house, giving him a poisonous glare as he passed. He raised his head and stared directly into the eyes on one bold man as he passed; the man was the one who broke contact first, lowering his eyes to the ground and unclenching his fists. Logan ignored him, ignored all their reactions, and rode on, wondering what kind of behavior by a knight would warrant this kind of fear.

He found out as he turned down one narrow street. A pretty young girl, maybe about Jubilee's age, was shaking with sobs as a fat, greasy soldier planted a disgustingly slobbery kiss all over her lips. She kept her hands at her sides, wanting to pull away but not having the courage to do so, until he released her and stepped back, laughing.

Logan was too furious to think. He lashed out with a foot on horseback, kicking the man in the head. The man turned to Logan and growled in outrage, and Logan was forced to draw his sword to defend himself. The knight was badly out of shape, as he could tell by the considerable paunch on the drunkard; he finally went down under a hard overhand thrust to the side. As the girl and the other townspeople stood there gasping, Logan finished the man off with a sword-thrust to the chest. "Don't leave him there," he said quickly. "Get him off the street. Say nothin' to no one 'bout his death. I am not one o' Gallas's soldiers, I'm Richard's knight, come ta rescue my squire."

The girl recovered from her shock quickly. "Down that street and around the corner, Sir Knight," she pointed, her voice steady and soft. "The way to the fortress lies down that road."

He leaned over, fishing around in his pack for the bag of coins that the Queen had given him, and pressed one into her hand. "Thank ya much, Lady,' he said courteously. "Have you a place where I can change? I need to get into the armour of Gallas's knights."

"In here." She pushed open a door. "This is my dress shop. There are changing rooms back there." He nodded and grabbed his pack, disappearing into the shop to change. By the time he came out, wearing armour and clothes in Gallas's green and blue colours, the body of the other knight had disappeared, and a street sweeper was sweeping dust and dirt over the bloodstain in the road. No one would ever know a man had been killed there. Logan flashed a bright smile in the girl's direction, and she smiled back before she disappeared back into the shop.

He rode on.


	33. Rescue

Chapter 33: Rescue

Logan took his horse into the stable and untacked it, listening to Gallas's knights talk. Maybe there would be some sign, some indication, or where Jubilee was. He was fairly sure she was in the dungeons, but it was possible that Julian was keeping her in his rooms for his convenience. He heard nothing but the usual conversation, however, until two soldiers left their horse's stalls and paused for a moment in the narrow corridor between the rows of stalls.

"…so do we get her tonight?" one man asked his companion.

The other man snorted. "Not sure why you'd want her," he snorted disdainfully. "She's not much to look at anymore; and after the way they had her racked yesterday, she's probably going to lie there like a dead fish. You'll have more luck heading down to the Keg and Key and getting yourself a handful of one of the wenches there."

Logan's heart skipped a beat. Racked! He remembered the stretching pain of the rack; remembered how it had made him scream. Dear God, if this was Jubilee they were talking about…He exited the stall quickly, almost bumping into the two men, who were on their way out of the stables. One of them stared at him. "Who are you?"

Logan thanked God that neither one remembered his face; maybe he did look different with the gray in his hair. "New conscript," he said gruffly. "Drafted yesterday."

The man sniffed disdainfully. "Gallas must be pretty desperate to be drafting people like you in the Knights," he made a face. "Oh well, since you're here." He turned to Logan. "Gallas has a girl down in the dungeons. She came here as a squire to one of the enemy King Richard's knights; he escaped, but she didn't. Gallas was so furious that he ordered her broken, and now he's just waiting for her to die. The knight she came with obviously doesn't care about her, or Richard would have sued for her return. So she's ours. Maybe you want to take a turn with her before they hang her tomorrow?"

Logan rolled his eyes with a casualness he didn't really feel. "If she's as bad off as you say, why would I want her?" He pushed past the two knights, heading in the direction of the dining hall.

As he strode toward the dining hall, he thought quickly. They had planned on his having a few days to acclimate himself to the castle and figure the best time and place to break her out. He had planned on having plenty of time to choose where to have his horse waiting to carry both him and Jubilee out of the castle; those plans would have to be scrapped. He cursed himself for waiting the extra day before heading out; if he'd left when he had meant to leave, he would have gotten here yesterday, and had time to plan. "Plans at a distance never go right," he grumbled to himself as he sat down at the table.

He barely even tasted the food; it was all so much cardboard and ashes to him. He kept thinking of Jubilee in the filth of the dungeons, probably hungry and thirsty and in pain, and he couldn't swallow. He picked at the food and drank sparingly of the ale, searching frantically for an excuse to go to the dungeons this evening…and coming up blank.

Gallas's knights were much less restrained and much more ill-mannered than Richard's knights. Logan watched as the men consumed cups of ale like a fish drank water, even some of those who might have to stand guard duty that night. Getting past a man that drunk should be easy. And if any of these men were supposed to be on guard duty in the dungeons, then getting past them would be easy too. All he had to do now was come up with a way to get down there.

As the nobles stood and left the hall by the door at the rear of the hall and the knights gathered themselves, one man in commander's colors (his tunic was a deep forest green, rather than the grayish blue-green that the regular soldiers wore) pointed to three soldiers. "You, and you," he indicated the first two soldiers, "Outside the dungeon door. I hear King Gallas wants to make a visit to the prisoner down there one last time before she's hanged tomorrow morning. "You," he pointed to the third man, "You got duty inside the dungeon."

The man grinned. "I get to play with the girl, huh?" he swayed on his feet, staggering a little. "Great! I'll give her a last present." He laughed uproariously, leaning forward to grab his cup. He lowered his head to take a last gulp from it.

Logan was sitting across the table from the man. Furious with the man for saying something so crude, and disgusted with his drunken behavior, he hooked the man's ankle with his own foot and pulled the other knight's legs out from under him. The man pitched forward, striking his head on the table. He slumped over the back of his seat, and didn't move. Logan was alarmed for a moment, wondering if he'd inadvertently killed the man…then was reassured by the sound of a loud, raspy snore.

The commander sighed. "A sleeping man can't stand guard duty, can he?" he muttered to himself. He looked up and down the table, apparently looking for a knight that wasn't too inebriated to stand up, and his eye fell on Logan. "You! You're new, who are you?"

Logan stood. "Vince," he said, unable to think of another name so quickly. He hadn't expected to be addressed. "Just arrived. I was conscripted."

The commander threw up his hands. "How come no one ever tells me these things?" he snapped at the other soldiers at the table. "This is the third conscription we've had this month that I wasn't notified of!" Without missing a beat, he turned to Logan and said, "You're on dungeon duty tonight. You're allowed to make use of the prisoners, any of them you wish, just make sure that when you hear King Gallas come down you speak respectfully, right? Go on, now." The other two soldiers grumbled and headed off for the door to the dungeon, which Logan remembered well. He followed them, opening the door as they relieved the two soldiers already standing there, and descended the narrow steps into the dungeon.

Everything was the same as he'd remembered; the same stink of fear and pain and filth, the same nondescript bodies in the same places. Few of the prisoners turned to look at him, most doing their best to not catch his eye.

He went down the row of cells, finding the one he and Jubilee had been held in, but the cell now held a thin, almost emaciated old man, not the short-haired girl he was looking for. "Hey," he said.

The man cringed further in the corner of his cell, still refusing to meet Logan's eye. Logan took a deep breath, realizing that his voice had spoken rather sharper than he intended. He softened his tone. "Look, I'm not here ta hurt ya," he said, a little more quietly. "I'm one of Richard's knights. I'm here to rescue my squire."

"But not us." The man's voice was bitter. "Just your precious lad."

"If I can free ya, I will," Logan said. "But I have ta find her. She's one o' the Queen's spies. I'll unlock the cells fer ya if ya can tell me where she is. She ain't that much shorter than me, maybe a head or so, and she's got dark hair, black, cut like a boy's."

The man turned to look fully at Logan. "You're Logan, then," he said.

Logan was surprised. "Yes, I am," he said. "How do you know?"

"You're the one she calls out for in her dreams," the man said. "We can hear her sometimes, when the night is quiet and she has bad dreams about what they've done to her during the day. She calls your name. I asked her once, when they brought her back to the cells to recover, who 'Logan' was. She said 'Logan' was the knight she was captured with, and that he'd left her." He looked at Logan. "Did you leave her?"

"Yes," Logan said. "Yes, I did…but I had to, don't you see, I had to, because I had to warn the king…" he trailed off as the man shot him a venomous look.

"I was in the courtyard when you broke out," the man said accusingly. "I didn't see you clearly; you got on the horse immediately. She called out to you to wait, to take her with you…you paused, and the guards ran out. You didn't even try. You ran." The man's voice was bitter. "I was running an errand for one of the nobles that night. I saw her saddle your horse and lead him out. I saw the whole fight. You had a chance, Sir Logan. She could have gone with you. But you didn't. You said she had betrayed you…but I couldn't see how, you were the one who betrayed her, leaving her here."

"But I'm here now, I'm here ta get her!" Logan bit his lip hard. The man's words cut deep, leaving a bleeding wound in his heart. He had betrayed her, by leaving her here.

"Yes, you are here, aren't you?" the man said. "She said you would come back. I tried to tell her you wouldn't, that you'd left her to rot like the rest of us…but she insisted you'd come back, insisted that you would never leave her here. And she was right…but she'll never know that, will she?" He turned away from Logan.

"Why? Where is she?" Logan was almost frantic now.

"They've kept her alonein the torture chamber for the lastfive days with no food and water. They didn't even bother torturing her, they've just teased her with water and food without letting her eat or drink.She's got to be pretty nearly gone now. The last time Gallas and that traitor knight left the chamber they said she was too far gone to be of any use to them and they were going to execute her tomorrow if she was still alive."

Logan flung himself away from the cell door and hurried toward the torture chamber. The door was exactly as he remembered it, but he had barely a thought to spare for his own memories; he was too wrapped up with thoughts of what he would find on the other side of it. He pushed the door open carefully.

The smell of blood and terror wafted out, and Logan held his breath as he stepped inside. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dimness inside the chamber, because the fire in the small, closed off room was down to just a few embers…but when his vision cleared, he saw a huddled, nude figure on the floor. He went halfway toward it before he identified it by the short dark hair. Jubilee!

He fell to his knees at her side. "Jubilee! Jubilee, it's me, Logan…" his voice trailed off as he turned her limp body over.

A sick horror filled him, and he sucked in a sharp breath, ignoring the stench that filled his nostrils. Her skin was pale, and so thin he could see the tracery of bluish veins under it. She had lost a lot of weight…too much weight. Every bone in her body stood out in sharp relief against her parchment-like skin, and the dark bruises looked like inkblots on a white rag. She was barely moving, and it took a long moment of staring before he could spot the tiny telltale up and down movement of her chest. Still afraid, he pressed his hand against her upper lip, and after a moment felt the faintest brush of breath against his palm. So she was still alive…but from the looks of her body, not long.

Her hips and shoulders were grotesquely swollen; Logan remembered the soldiers talking about a prisoner who had been racked and knew they had been talking about Jubilee. Her hip and shoulder joints had dislocated from the strain of being stretched on the rack and then had swollen before being snapped back into place. The pain alone must have been hideous; they hadn't really had to give her the beating that spread fresh bruises across her face and body. He leaned over her, cupping her chin gently and pushing the tangled hair back from her forehead. "Jubilee. Come on, wake up, it's me. Logan." He reached for a pail of water that sat near the wall, taking the dipper and filling it with water. He gave it a quick taste, to see if it was clean, and when he ascertained that it was, he held the dipper to her lips. "Jubilee, come on now, wake up. Water, Jubilee, here's water. Wake up, please, you have to wake up…"

The liquid ran over the parched, cracked, dry lips, filled her mouth, and spilled out the corners. She hadn't swallowed. Logan felt a cold rush of fear set in. Maybe he was too late. Her swallowing reflex wasn't there, and it should have been. He tried again, spilling the water between her slightly parted lips again. "Jubilee, please," he whispered. "Please don't die, I'm sorry, God, I'm so sorry…"

He saw the muscles in the throat flex, and the water disappeared. A moment later Jubilee coughed weakly as the water went down the wrong way, and she tried to roll over as she got the water out of her lungs. Weakened by the fit of coughing, she sagged back against the floor, but Logan refused to let her slip back into unconsciousness. "Jubilee," he said urgently. "Jubilee, wake up."

She turned her head wearily, saw him hanging there over her shoulder, and closed her eyes as her head sank back onto the hard stone floor. "Go away," she whispered hoarsely. "You're just a dream. Logan won't come for me, he hates me. He won't come back for me. Go away."

"No!" Logan grasped her arms and pulled her upright, ignoring her gasp of pain as he tugged at her swollen shoulders. "Jubilee, it's me, it's Logan, I've come ta take ya home. Here." He held the dipper up again. "The water ain't a dream. I'm not a dream. I'm really here. Jubilee, we gotta go. Wake up, Jubilee, please!" He shook her gently.

She moaned, her face creasing with the pain in her abused shoulders, then opened her eyes fully. "Logan?" she whispered. "Is it really you?"

"Yes," he whispered, hugging her tightly. "Yes, Jubilee, it's really me. I'm here, I'm gonna take ya outta here. I shouldn't have left ya in the first place, I was a fool not ta have seen ya was tellin' the truth. Come on."

She raised her hands, so swollen that they were almost useless, and tugged with numb fingers at the iron collar around her neck, and at the chain that ran from it to the wall. "I can't," she whispered, still hoarse. "I'm chained. You can't get it off without a key. The torturer has it. I can't get out. Go, Logan. Get out of here before they find you here…only…Logan, Duke Gilbert is the traitor Duke. You have to tell the King and Queen. Duke Gilbert's been passing information about our strength and movements on our side of the border."

"You'll tell the Queen herself," Logan said, his fingers searching every link in the chain, and the lock on the collar, for some weakness that would enable him to open it. "We're both leaving."

"No, Logan, we can't! I can't go anywhere…you have to go. You have to go and warn—"

"Well, well, well," came a voice from the door. Logan spun, staring at the three men he'd never even heard entering the room. "The knight returns for his squire. Good. We may have some sport at the hanging tomorrow."

Gallas, Julian, and a sway-backed, bent old man who Logan recognized as the torturer strode into the room. "I didn't expect to see you here," Gallas said, his eyes narrowing. "How did you get in, if I may ask? How did you get past my guards?"

Logan rose and turned slowly on the balls of his feet, tensing all of his muscles in preparation for a quick draw of his sword. He kept himself between Jubilee and the men who had tortured her so cruelly, watching their every move. The torturer he dismissed; the man had no fighting skills that could prove a threat, and the only other thing the man had that could interest Logan was the ring of keys at his belt. He needed those keys.

Julian wasn't carrying a sword either; he had no weapons, not even the belt knife all knights carried as a matter of course. That left Gallas; the would-be usurper had his sword slung at his hip. It was a showy thing, its hilt of soft gold and crusted with faceted jewels that would cut the wielder's hand if it were to be used in combat. No king would carry a jeweled sword like that into combat. However, this wasn't a normal battlefield, and a jeweled sword, however showy, could still kill if the wielder caught his opponent off guard.

Logan had no intention of being caught off guard.

Gallas smiled. "So you've come back. Do you know, I actually thought you might not? So much time went by, and I didn't hear a single thing about her. And when Richard withdrew from the border, taking his entourage with him and didn't so much as demand to know what had become of the little squire, I thought perhaps you'd told them that she had died, and there was no use suing for her return. I had no inkling that you would try a rescue mission yourself." He drew that sword, and Logan drew his own in response. "You are on your own, are you not? Or is there someone outside waiting for you to emerge with the girl?" He smiled. "No matter. Once I have you I will get the guards to go out and check."

"You won't get me." Logan stated flatly.

"I had you once," Gallas said vindictively. "I can get you again. Do you remember how you screamed in this very torture chamber? I couldn't get you to beg…but maybe this time I can, with the girl too. Now that I know your little lover's quarrel with her is over, maybe she can get you to beg. Maybe seeing some of the things I want to doto her will loosen your tongue. How about it?"

Logan snarled, "You'll never touch her again. Neither you or your arrogant little traitor nor your pet torturer either. Before you set one finger on her again I'll kill her myself, to save her from you."

Gallas grinned. "Oh, no, I think I'll have to prevent that. That would be too easy. She begged for death, did you know that? Begged me to kill her, yesterday, after we hadtempted her with water only to withold it from her again. Of course, I didn't oblige. I had planned to have her killed in the morning…Four horses in the village square, pulling on all of her limbs…how long do you think she would last?" He turned to Julian. "Eh, Julian? How long do you think she would last?"

Logan's eyes flickered sideways to Julian, and in that moment Gallas struck. His sword came up in a flashing arc, intending to catch Logan's sword with his own and disarm him. Logan, however, had seen the sudden movement, and brought his sword up in time to parry the blow.

There was very little clear space in the torture chamber; most of it was taken up by complicated apparatus. Gallas's sword struck sparks off the metal in the room, and rang off the stone walls, as well as thudding into the wooden posts around the room. Logan's sword, more often than not, struck sparks off Gallas's sword.

He kept a careful eye on the king, watching the way the other man handled his sword. There was a particularly fine jewel, a large red ruby, set in the pommel. It seemed to be troubling Gallas somewhat, because he kept readjusting his grip on his sword to avoid having the sharp faceted edge of the jewel cut into his palm. And he only readjusted his grip when he had to slash left. Gallas was right-handed.

Logan feinted over to the left, and Gallas had to readjust his grip yet again. Logan saw the tiny wobble in the sword-tip, and met it with his own blade. Steel sparked off steel as Logan's blade struck the guard of Gallas's sword, and for a moment both men strained against each other. Gallas, however, had been in mid-shift when Logan's sword trapped his, and Logan hadn't given him time to adjust his grip. And Gallas's palm was damp with sweat, and that made all that shiny, soft gold slippery. With a sudden grunt of effort, Logan twisted Gallas's sword out of his hand, and as the sword went flying as Logan's own blade buried itself in Gallas's chest.

The man staggered backward, staring almost in disbelief at the sword protruding from his chest. "What…" he croaked as he fell to the floor in a helpless heap. Logan stepped over to retrieve his sword from Gallas's chest.

"Logan! Look out!" Jubilee tried to shout a warning, but with her throat in ruins from days of screaming she couldn't get more than a croak out. But Logan heard her, and wrenched the sword out of Gallas's chest as Julian came at him from the side, swinging the golden sword over his head in an arc that was supposed to slice Logan's head off his shoulders.

Logan caught the sword's downward arc on his own blade. Julian was a much better swordsman than Gallas, but the sword he held was an inferior, show piece of steel only. It hadn't been forged and tempered with combat in mind, and when Logan raised his own battle-tested steel blade and brought it down with all his strength on the other weapon, the other sword broke. With a shriek of sundered metal, the King's Sword snapped in half, the top third of its blade sheared away.

Chivalry decreed that Logan should give Julian a chance to surrender. He was about to open his mouth and speak the formal phrases when Julian lunged to the side, slipping under Logan's right arm and falling to his knees beside Jubilee. He grabbed a handful of chain in either hand and pressed it to the girl's neck. "Me or her, Logan," he snarled. "You make a move…and I strangle her."

Logan didn't even pause. He raised his sword.

The chain against Jubilee's neck dug deep into her throat, and she choked, thrashing against Julian's greater bulk. Logan took his sword in a two-handed grip, the blade pointing downward, and stabbed Julian in the shoulder, the blade snapping the other man's collarbones like dry twigs, and plunged into the chest cavity. Julian died without saying another word, and with a very surprised look on his face. He hadn't expected Logan to make a move like that.

Logan unwound the chain from Jubilee's neck. "Are ya okay?" he asked. "I'm sorry, I had ta, he woulda tried ta strangle ya anyway. But he wouldn't have been able to kill you before I killed him."

A soft whisper of movement behind him and a soft whine, and Jubilee's frightened, hoarse cry, were the only warnings he got before a line of fire traced across his back. He bit back his yell of pain and stood, looking around for the source.

The torturer was standing there, with a vicious thonged whip in his hand. From the look on his face, he seemed to expect that Logan would fall to the floor in pain from that vicious stroke. He looked surprised and a little fearful as he tried to raise the whip again.

Logan never gave him a chance. He charged the man, grabbing the end of the whip and jerking it savagely from the man's grasp. The little man stumbled backward as Logan collided with him, but even when Logan pulled himself up short the torturer, off-balance, continued to stagger backward…until he came up hard against something. He turned to see what it was, and looked quite surprised to see the beheading blade slicing forward at his neck. The surprised look stayed on his face as his head fell to the floor with a peculiar dull, thud, and the body, spouting blood from its stump of a neck, fell over on the floor. With a few last twitches, it was still.

Logan was still blinking at the suddenness of it when he heard a harsh, croaking sound behind him. Jubilee was backed up against the wall, her blue eyes wide and terrified in her thin face, screaming in horror. At lest, she would have been screaming if she could have made any sound other than a harsh croak. Logan took a quick step forward, trying not to step in the spreading pool of blood, and snatched the keys from the corpse.

"Stay with me, Jubilee," he said gently as he returned to her side. She was swaying, white with shock at the blood and carnage around them, and he knew with the condition her body was in it was likely that she would slip into shock. He tried all the keys in her collar, one by one, until he found the one that fitted.

The iron collar fell away from her neck, and she brought her hands up to feel her suddenly bare throat. "It's gone," he said quietly. "Come on. We need to get out to the stables and get my horse. You're light, he'll carry us both."


	34. Thomas

Chapter 34: Thomas

It was slow going. Logan had to almost carry Jubilee out of the torture chamber;she was so weak fromhunger and thirstfrom her long imprisonment that moving was almost impossible. She sobbedin anguishand almost gave up, but Logan refused to let her go. "C'mon, Jubilee," he said coaxingly. "Look, I didn't come all the way here ta leave ya here now. I know you're exhausted…but ya gotta hang on till we're safe."

He took off the tunic he wore under the green surcoat of Gallas's knights, and pulled it over Jubilee's head. Then he took Gallas's broken sword and buckled it in its scabbard, slung it over his shoulder, and picked up the keys. "Gotta tell Richard Gallas is dead," he said grimly to her questioning look. "And I have ta be able ta prove it. The broken sword oughtta be enough." He slid an arm under her shoulders and helped her stand. "Come on. Step by step."

They paused outside the first cell, and Logan inserted the keys in the lock. "Gallas is dead," he said to the occupant inside. "So is the torturer. Yer free."

The sound of rattling keys carried down the entire row of cells, and heads appeared at the barred doors to the cells. "Please!" A multitude of hands began to stretch forth, begging for the keys to their particular cell. The man who came out of the first cell wordlessly took the ring of other keys Logan held out to him and started down the other row, turning the keys and setting the prisoners inside free. A good many of them started to head for the dungeon door, but a voice stopped them all.

"Wait!" It was the old man who had spoken to Logan earlier. "If you go that way you'll run into the guards at the top of the stairs. If you follow me, I can show you another way out."

"Another way out?" Logan's eyes narrowed as she swung the door to the old man's cell open. "Where?"

"In the torture chamber," the man said. 'There's a secret door there. It leads to the kitchens and the back gates. Gallas used to use that way to come and watch the torture of certain prisoners. If we go that way, I can talk the cook into letting us out by the back gates."

"My horse is in the stables," Logan said. "I'll need him to get where I'm going!" He gestured to Jubilee, who had slumped to the floor, clinging to consciousness by the barest thread. "She's in no condition to walk far."

The man nodded grimly. "I know, Sir Logan. If we can get her to the kitchen, the cook will help me, and we'll be able to get your girl to safety."

Logan narrowed his eyes in sudden suspicion. "See here," he said roughly, "How do I know you're not going to just hand us over ta the soldiers? They'll kill us fer sure when they find out I've killed their King."

"She has been kind to me," the man said quietly, ignoring Logan's glare and kneeling beside Jubilee. She raised her head wearily to look at him, then dropped it listlessly. "You will need somewhere safe to stay until she heals enough to travel. It's almost three days from here to the border, and a week from the border to your capital city. She won't make it, Sir Logan. She's going to need to stay somewhere until she recovers enough to travel." He met Logan's gaze with his own level one, and Logan knew he was speaking the truth. He decided to take a chance.

"Let's go, then," Logan said, grabbing Jubilee's arm and pulling it over his shoulder. "Show me this other way out."

The other prisoners followed the old man and Logan, carrying Jubilee, into the torture chamber. And they stared at the bodies; Gallas and Julian, dead from sword-thrusts to the heart; and the torturer, decapitated by the machine he'd used to amputate some of his victim's fingers and various other body parts. The man's head still lay where it had fallen, and it still had a mildly surprised look on its face. The prisoners broke into smiles, and Logan wondered if Jubilee felt as much satisfaction over the man's death as they did.

The old man went to the back of the room, to the large wooden bas-relief fresco that covered the back wall. It was, appropriately enough, a scene of torture; carved wooden bodies, both male and female, writhed in agony under the lash of a demonic-looking torturer.

The man reached out to a carving of a woman tied to a whipping post. She was having her eyes poked out by a pike; one eye was gone, leaving a gaping hole. The man grimaced briefly, but poked his index finger into the empty eye socket and his thumb into the open mouth, and wrenched sideways. A portion of the fresco panel slid aside, revealing a narrow dark stairway leading upwards. A cheer rose from the ragged assemblage of former prisoners, and they started up the stairs, one by one.

Logan waited until the other prisoners had gone first, then turned to Jubilee. She had sagged against him wearily until he was supporting all of her weight…and he didn't notice she had fainted until he turned and looked at her.

"Jubilee," he whispered gently, patting her pale, thin cheek. "Jubilee, come on, wake up, we're gettin' outta here. Come on, wake up." Her eyelids fluttered.

"So…tired," she whispered, her voice a reedy whisper. "Please…I hurt…just leave me alone…can't go any further…oh God, I hurt…" she slipped back into unconsciousness.

"Take her other arm," the old man said. "We'll have to get her up to the kitchens. A cup of strong wine will help her revive enough for us to get her on your horse, and I know a safe place you can stay until she can travel. My daughter and her husband live in a village only a short distance from here, and she'll be able to hide you until the girl is well enough to travel."

Logan slipped an arm under Jubilee's knees and scooped her up in his arms. She didn't weigh much before Julian had kidnapped them; she weighed even less now. Her slight weight was no burden on him. "Lead on," he told the man, standing.

The man darted up the stairs, and Logan followed, carrying Jubilee. At the top of the steps there was a door open, and he gave a huge sigh of relief when he smelled the unmistakable odor of bread baking for the morning meal.

The old man was speaking in low, urgent tones to a woman in a billowing white apron. The other prisoners were hungrily eating the leftover food from the evening meal that the serving maids were putting out on the table, and some other women were digging through piles of clean laundry to find tunics, leggings, and other pieces of clothing for those prisoners who wore nothing.

"So this is the little squire," the cook came up to Logan, her voice soft as she looked at the sleeping girl in Logan's arms. "Ah, poor lass. Heard them soldiers talk about her for a month now, I have. Ever since that traitor knight took her up to his room to torture her."

"What?" Logan blinked.

The woman didn't seem to notice his startled reaction. "Aye, poor thing. Kept her chained to his bedpost, used her body whenever he felt like it—and she was a virgin before he touched her, I'll wager, from the sounds she made. Beat her mercilessly, too."

Logan stared at Jubilee, heartsick. And all that time, he'd thought Jubilee had been sleeping voluntarily with Julian—he'd thought she had betrayed him. "I'm sorry, Jubilee," he murmured, setting her carefully down in a chair and propping her upright so the cook could hold a cup of wine to her lips. Jubilee moaned as the woman tilted the cup, tipping a little of the wine into her mouth. She swallowed reflexively…and came awake, gasping and spluttering, as the strong alcohol burned her throat all the way down to her stomach. "No," she said weakly, trying to push the cup away. "Ugh…disgusting stuff…tastes awful…"

"Drink it," the woman said firmly. "You need to wake up, girl, just long enough for Thomas to get you out to his daughter's. Here. If you're feeling better, see if you can stand up. One of the maids went off to find a dress for you, let's get you changed…" Her voice trailed off as she led Jubilee into the laundry room and closed the door. Logan tuned to say something to Thomas, but the man was already disappearing out the door.

Moments later, both of them came out, Jubilee now dressed in plain homespun. She had lost too much weight, and the dress was extremely loose on her body, but at least she was decently covered. She fell back onto the chair with a sigh, and the kind cook pressed a small roll of soft bread into her hand. 'Eat a little," she said. Jubilee wearily raised the bread to her lips and bit into it.

Only a few minutes later, Thomas came back into the kitchen. "I have your horse saddled and waiting in the courtyard," he said. "The guard at the side gate will let us out."

Logan narrowed his eyes. "How'd ya get him to cooperate?" he growled.

Thomas said quietly, "Gallas wasn't well-liked by his subjects, Sir Logan. Not by a long shot. He was a very brutal king. The guard who's waiting for us, James, had a friend, also in the guard. They grew up together, in the same village.

"About a year ago, Gallas went hunting with an entourage of guards, including James's friend. When they stopped for a noon meal at an inn Gallas took a liking to the serving girl and tried to rape her right there. She resisted. James's friend distracted Gallas until the girl could escape, thereby saving her life. In anger, Gallas had the man hung for treason. I told the guard who you were, and I told him you had killed Gallas. He agreed to help us leave the castle, before the other guards and everyone else finds out Gallas is dead. The word is probably spreading like wildfire among the servants, so it won't be long until the regular guard finds out. We have to get out of the castle, and quickly."

Logan took Jubilee's arm and pulled her to a standing position. "Come on," he said. "Jubilee, he's got somewhere we can go so ya can recover a bit before we head back to the castle. All ya have ta do is get out ta the yard an' get on a horse. My horse. I'll ride behind ya, and hold ya on. Can ya do that?"

Jubilee struggled out of her chair, moaning a little as her swollen feet touched the floor. Logan carried her out the door to where his horse waited, then wrapped his hands around her waist and tried to hoist her into the saddle. She gasped out as she sat in the saddle, biting her lip to stifle her moan of pain, but she didn't offer Logan an explanation. He swung up into the saddle behind her, slipping an arm around her waist to keep her upright as he gripped the reins in his hand. "All right, hang on," he said. He turned the horse toward the gate as Thomas swung onto his own horse. The guard at the gate simply opened the door and waved them through without a word, and moments later they were galloping down the dark road. It was night, but the moon was full, and illuminated the road ahead. Logan concentrated on keeping Jubilee on the horse in front of him. She was gasping with each step the horse took, trying to muffle her sobs, and Logan bit his lip. His horse was a warhorse, not a palfrey, and his gait was rough. He could only imagine how much the jarring was hurting Jubilee, but they had no choice.

They rode for most of the night. Logan had to wake Jubilee several times, to keep her from falling off the horse, and her soft sobs made him wince. At least there were no pursuers, so he didn't have to spur the horse into a gallop; that would have hurt worse.

He was concentrating on keeping her on, so he barely noticed the route they took. When Thomas, up ahead of him, stopped his horse, Logan stopped too. He walked back to Logan's horse, and reached up to Jubilee. She was almost unconscious, and Logan had to slide her off the saddle and into Thomas's arms before he could dismount himself, then he took Jubilee back into his arms and followed Thomas to the front door of the small house.

When it opened he stared in astonishment for a long moment before he found his voice. "Mistress Mary?" he finally asked, surprised.

"Sir Logan?" she asked him, equally surprised. "Father…"

Thomas was looking from one to the other, surprised. "You know each other?"

"Mistress Mary gave me shelter after I escaped the first time," Logan said, still surprised. "She's yer daughter?"

"Yes," Thomas said. "Come on. The guards will almost certainly be looking for you, and we have to get the horses off the street and into a stable before someone recognizes them or notices them."

Logan looked down at the girl in his arms, then at his horse. He should take care of his horse first…but Jubilee needed help too.

Mary solved the problem for him. "Bring her in here, and put her in the bedroom you were in the last time," she said. "Once she's there, go on out to the stables and take care of your horse. I'll take care of her."

Logan walked into the house, found the small bedroom he'd occupied the last time he was there, and laid Jubilee out on the bed. Mary lit the candle on the table, and the soft gray of the pre-dawn light gave way to a bright golden glow.

She drew a sharp breath, and Logan stepped back, squeezing his eyes shut. Jubilee looked even worse in the bright light than she had looked back at the dungeon; the hollows in her cheeks, above her collarbones, and above her elbows and knees were more sharply defined, her thinness more noticeable. And the dark stains on the skirt between her legs were now visible too. No wonder she had cried out when he'd put her on the saddle. "Please…Mistress Mary, please do what ya can ta save her," he choked out. "It's my fault…I shouldn't'a left her there…she wouldn't look like this if it wasn't for me…" Unable to bear the sight of Jubilee's battered body any longer, he fled the room, heading for the stable.

Thomas had led Logan's horse and his own into the small stable, and started untacking his own. Logan joined him and started to unsaddle and unbridle the horse. "I'm sorry," Logan choked out, finally. "I didn't know…"

"Know what?"

"The cook…told me Jubilee was bein' kept a prisoner fer Julian in his own room…an' all the time I thought she'd decided ta sleep with him just so she could get out o' the dungeons…I never once thought that maybe she was doing it unwillingly…"

"We knew," Thomas said gently. "That first day he took her from the cell and put her in the torture chamber…he beat her with an iron bar, bruising her lower back. He told her he wouldn't stop until she told him she would sleep with him, and finally she did, because she was in so much pain. Two of the kitchen maids bathed her and dressed her, and took her up to Julian's room. He raped her that night. I was passing in the hall, on my way up to talk to Gallas about the condition of one of his favorite horses, and I heard her screaming. Every day for a week, when I went to give Gallas a report on that horse I heard her crying or screaming. The gossip around the kitchens, with the kitchen maids, was that he was keeping her chained to his bedpost, and beating her every night before he raped her. It was a cruel, brutal thing he'd done to her, and even though she was bathed (the traitor knight didn't like her smelling of sweat and blood in his bed) she was worse off in his rooms than she was in the dungeons.

"After you escaped Gallas's rage was terrible. He was furious. He ordered Jubilee taken out of Sir Julian's room, and returned to the dungeon, and she spent three days in the chamber before she broke. She went mad there for a while, I think. She would sing, or say things that made no sense. They left her alone for a while, a week, and then Gallas ordered her death by starvation. The guards would tease her, offering her food and water and then taking it away before she could eat.. We could all hear her begging them to stop, to give her water or leave her alone, but they didn't. Gallas and Julian came down a few times to beat her, we all heard her begging them to let her die. She was still in there when you came."

Logan closed his eyes, trying to shut out the image of Jubilee lyingin the torture room dying slowly by starvation and thirst.Jubilee had been forced to endure that, for an entireweek, because he had been too angry with her to listen to her. And he'd been too afraid of getting caught again to go back for her when he'd had the chance. Coward. He'd been a coward, and a fragile young girl had paid the price. Would she ever forgive him?


	35. Recovering

Chapter 35: Recovering

"Oh, God, I hurt…" That was Jubilee's first reaction as awareness, and pain, flooded back into her body and mind, ripping away the veil of unconsciousness that had cushioned her from it for at least a little while. She moaned as the ache settled into every joint of her body, and became concentrated between her hips.

A cool hand touched her forehead, and a soft voice said, "Well, the fever's down, so she must be waking up. I'll get her some food and water. She's going to be hungry." Footsteps receded.

Another voice, a gruff male one, said "Jubilee? Hey, are ya awake?" Memory intruded. She had a vague recollection of Logan, appearing almost like magic in the torture chamber; she fuzzily remembered some sort of battle, in which Gallas and Julian and the torturer were killed; and a memory of the hard night ride, with the front of the saddle digging painfully into her body between her legs. Was she dreaming, or had all of that really happened?

"L-Logan?" She carefully opened her eyes. Logan's worried-looking face was only inches from her own.

"You awake?"

"Yes…" Jubilee closed her eyes for a moment, fighting the headache that threatened to take over, and when she thought she had it under control, she opened them again. She was lying in a small room. The walls were rough, made of wood and stone, and she was lying on a bed in the corner of the room furthest from the door. There was a small chair beside the bed, which Logan was sitting on, and a small pallet of blankets were spread out on the opposite side of the room. She looked back at Logan. "Where are we?"

"Thomas's daughter's house. Ya been asleep fer a coupla days."

"Days?" Jubilee almost sat bolt upright in the bed, and thought better of it when the ache in her head threatened to send her back down into darkness. "Isn't anyone looking for us?"

Logan shrugged. "A couple of wanderin' patrols. Not much. When the word spread that Gallas was dead the minor lords and princelings decided ta scramble an' try ta grab the throne. They're all too busy fightin' each other now. And from what I hear, the force that was engagin' Richard's at the border just up and left in the middle o' the night. Richard's soldiers are packin' up now."

Jubilee stared at the blanket covering her. "You saved me. You've repaid your life-debt. So go on."

Logan stared at her. "And leave ya here? Naw. I ain't goin' anywhere til yer ready ta travel too."

"Why not? You did before." The bitterness in her tone cut Logan's heart.

"Because…that was a mistake," he said earnestly. "Jubilee…before we go on, I need ta say…I need ta tell ya…that I'm sorry. I got so mad at ya fer not tellin' me who ya were, an' fer lyin' ta me, that I lost sight o' what's important."

"What?" She still wasn't looking at him.

"Whether yer a girl or a boy, yer still my squire. Yer still the same plucky kid who takes care o' my horse and tack an' who jumped inta the river ta save my life. I owed ya fer that. And now I owe ya a lot more. If I'd taken ya with me when I left the first time, I coulda saved ya a lot o' pain." She still wasn't looking at him. Logan sighed. "While ya been asleep I been talkin' ta Thomas. He told me…He told me that Julian forced ya ta sleep with him. I was wrong when I said ya betrayed me. And when I left ya got hurt even worse. Jubilee…will ya fergive me?" There was silence for a long time. Logan started to sweat. "I know I got a lot ta make up fer. Nothin' I could do could even begin ta make up fer what ya suffered. But maybe I could give it a try. Fergive me?"

"Yes," and Logan sighed gustily at the response. "Wait. There are a few other things you should know. I haven't been entirely truthful." Logan sat back in his chair and looked at Jubilee, who had finally raised her head and was looking straight at him.

"I guess we ought ta get all the lyin' done and over with," he said levelly. "Go ahead." She started with stories of her life with the entertainers' show, and Logan nodded as the reason for her extreme flexibility and her acrobatic skill became evident. Then she told him about that last, dreadful night at Brooksmeet, the raiding bandits and the horrible deaths of everyone she knew. Logan listened, marveling at her strength as she told him how she had worked the next day to bury the people who had fallen, and then about her days of walking to find the next closest village, where she had met up with him. The rest he knew. "How old are ya?" Logan asked curiously, when she had finished.

Jubilee thought for a moment. "I turned eighteen this spring," she said when she finished counting.

Logan's jaw dropped. "You don't look it," he managed finally, still staring at her. "My God…I really was a damn fool…"

She looked curious. "Why?" Logan couldn't answer her. All winter, while she worked next to him and talked with him and laughed with him, she had been a girl. His body had known that, of course; he now remembered the urges he'd had to fight down whenever he'd seen her. Now they all made sense.

"I…I'd never been attracted to a boy before," he finally got out, flushing a bright red. "An' all of a sudden, when ya came, I had ta fight with myself. That was why I approached Julian 'bout takin' ya off my hands to begin with, cause I didn't wanna find myself attracted ta a boy. I ain't like that. But ya ain't a boy, yer a girl, an' I'm…I was a damn fool." He shook his head absently, his mind spinning. She was not only a girl, she was also old enough to court…

"You're attracted to me?" Jubilee blurted incredulously.

Logan ducked his head and blushed. "Well…" Jubilee stared at the blanket again, her own face red. "Uh. Well…I guess...I kinda had a crush on you too."

"Had?" Logan's heart leaped. If Jubilee…

"Had," Jubilee said firmly, still looking down and not meeting his eyes. "Logan…maybe before…but now…now that you know I lied to you, you maybe won't want me around anymore. And…after what Julian did to me, I don't think…" She swallowed miserably. "I…can't, Logan. I don't think I could, now. He hurt me…so much…" And although she had told herself she wouldn't think about the horrible things Julian and Gallas had done to her, had made her do with them, she found all her pent-up feelings rushing out in a torrent of tears. Logan reached out to wrap his arms around her, but she flinched at his touch and tried to avoid his grasp. Logan felt a sick anguish settling into the pit of his stomach. No, Jubilee would never be his girl. Not now. Not after Julian had hurt her so badly. How she had survived his brutality was a mystery to him; but innocence, once lost, couldn't be regained.

He carefully moved away from her, noting the way her body visibly relaxed once his male presence no longer invaded her personal space, and sighed. "I do still want you around," he said firmly, surprising both himself and Jubilee. "I want things ta go back ta bein' the way they were. I want ya ta continue ta be my squire. I care 'bout ya, Jubilee…a lot…an' maybe someday when the pain of the memories go away…we can give it another try." Jubilee shook her head.

"Logan, it won't work. You know I'm a girl, now; it shows. You're not as casual around me anymore; no one will be fooled for long. I can't continue to be your squire. Maybe it would be best for you to just go. Tell everyone you tried to rescue Lee, but he was already dead…I'll find somewhere else to live."

Logan reached over to her and shook her. "Stop that!" He exclaimed. "Do ya honestly think I could do that? Vincet's waitin' fer ya. Renee is waitin' fer ya. They're yer friends too. They have a right ta see ya, ta know yer alive. Not ta mention, if I don't come back with ya, Vincet's likely gonna skin me alive. He was furious that I'd left ya."

"He cares about me," Jubilee said quietly. "But…Logan, I don't care for him the same way…"

"He knows," Logan said, releasing her. "But you have a responsibility to let him know you're alive. And Renee. And…back there in the dungeon…I think I remember you saying that you know who the traitor Duke is?"

"Yes!" Jubilee started, her eyes wide. "It's Duke Gilbert. Oh, God…we have to go warn the King…" She started to try and get up, ignoring the pain that flared up in her body.

Logan planted a hand in the middle of her chest and held her down. It wasn't that difficult, given how weak she was. "Hold on," he said firmly. "Yer not goin' anywhere till ya can move without flinchin' in pain an' yer a little stronger. Right now ya can barely move. Youalmost died back there.Mistress Mary says yer gonna heal up fine, with time, but if ya reinjure the muscles in yer arms and legs yer gonna end up crippled. I don't wanna see that. So yer gonna stay put till ya can move without hurtin'." Jubilee fought his hand, weakly, but gave up when it was clear that he absolutely wasn't going to let her up. She lay back on the pillow, gasping with effort, and tears in her blue eyes. He didn't take his hand away until she was completely still.

The door to the room opened, and Mary came in carrying a wooden bowl and spoon with a savory aroma rising off it; and a cup of watered wine. "The wine will help you get to sleep, which is the best thing for you right now. But you'd better eat first." She set the bowl down on the table beside the bed and tucked another pillow behind Jubilee's back, raising the girl to a semi-upright position, then gave Jubilee the bowl. Jubilee tried to eat, but the heat coming from the wooden bowl made her swollen fingers ache, and the spoon left ridges. Logan took the bowl and spoon from her gently and started to feed her, and she was too tired to complain. He made her finish the entire bowl and held the cup to her lips. She made a face when she tasted the herbs added to the wine and water, but Mary only smiled. "They'll dull the pain and make you feel better." Jubilee obediently drank it down, and by the time Mary got her lying down flat again she was already drifting off into sleep.

Mary took the bowl and spoon off to the kitchen, and when she came back Jubilee was deeply asleep. She pulled the covers off the sleeping girl and checked the bandages wrapped around Jubilee's ankles. The heavy leather straps that had been wrapped around Jubilee's ankles while she was suspended on the rack had bitten deeply into the flesh, leaving raw sores. Mary gently unwrapped the cloths, smeared more ointment on her ankles, and wrapped them back up. Then she turned her attention to the bandages on Jubilee's wrists. Logan helped her, holding the pot of ointment and bandages, and when Mary was done with Jubilee's wrists, Logan gently rolled Jubilee over on her stomach. Mary unbuttoned the back of the long white shift. Logan again had to fight down the anger that threatened to engulf him, as he had every time in the last few days that Mary had done this while Jubilee was unconscious. In addition to the deep whip weals that would leave scars, and the burns on her back from being beaten with a branding iron,she was so starved every bone in her back stood out in sharp relief on her pale skin.And it was all his fault, for leaving her there in the first place. If he hadn't left her she wouldn't look like this now…

"Don't beat yourself up, Sir Logan," Mary said quietly, buttoning the back of the shift up and rolling her onto her side, where she would sleep more comfortably. Tugging the blanket up, she smoothed down the folds while she pinned Logan with a direct stare. "There's nothing to be done about it now. And at least she's alive, and she'll heal. Don't give up on her yet."

"She'll heal physically…but emotionally?" Logan shook his head. "She says…there's no hope fer us, cause Julian an' Gallas hurt her too badly. She don't even want me ta hug her, or touch her. I love her…but ain't nothin' gonna happen now."

Mary smiled gently. "Don't give up yet, Sir Logan. She will heal. It'll take some time, but she will heal. Completely. Wait and see. Just be there for her. Be patient." She smiled at him and patted his shoulder gently. Logan smiled at her and went digging around in the tack under the small table, coming up with a small brown purse. "Here," he said quietly. "For your trouble. For letting us stay here while she heals enough for us to travel." The small leather pouch held the money Renee had given Logan to finance his little rescue effort.

Mary's eyes widened and she shook her head. "Oh, no, I couldn't take it," she said. "You're here because I want you to stay here, not because I want money for it!"

Logan shook his head. "Please take it," he said. "I'm grateful fer all ya done, an' I don't know how else ta thank ya. And havin' two extra mouths ta feed surely can't be easy, so use it to replace what we've eaten. Or anything else we might damage, or use, or anything you need. Please. It's the least I can do."

Mary smiled. "All right. Thank you, Sir Logan." She left the room quietly. Logan sighed as he went to the other side of the room, where a small pallet of blankets and an extra pillow lay. He dropped down on them with a sigh, stretching out. Now that she'd awakened, and she seemed all right, he needed to get some sleep.

He didn't know how much later it was when he woke. For a moment he lay awake there, the cool air telling him it was night, and wondering what had woken him. Then he heard the same soft, muffled sound that had woken him up, and he looked over at the bed. Jubilee's eyes were screwed shut, and she was whimpering. As Logan watched, her body jerked as though she were in pain, and she choked out, "No…Julian, please, no…"

He got up and crossed the room, taking hold of her shoulders. "Jubilee, it's okay," he whispered. "Yer safe, yer with me, I ain't gonna let nothin' hurt ya. Julian's dead. Wake up." He shook her gently. She went rigid, her face twisted in an expression of pure agony, and he bit his lip. What had Julian done to her to make her look like that? "Jubilee, please," he said, sitting down beside her on the bed and pulling her up to a sitting position. "Wake up."

And she did. With a gasp she opened her blue eyes, and the terror in them made him flinch. With a soft gasp, she flung herself away from him, cowering up against the top of the bed. "Please," she begged softly, her eyes now squeezed shut. "Please don't hurt me!"

"Jubilee, it's me. It's Logan. I ain't gonna hurt ya. Relax. Yer safe, Julian's dead, he ain't gonna hurt ya any more. I won't let nobody else hurt ya either." Slowly her eyes opened again, and she looked at him with tears spilling down her cheeks. Logan's heart ached, and he reached out impulsively, wrapped his arms around her, and hugged her carefully. She stiffened…but didn't pull away immediately. Logan figured maybe they were making progress.

It was almost a full week beforeJubilee could get out of bed without pain. "Easy, now," he said gently as she stood shakily on the floor. "Yer still weak. Ya lost a lotta muscle, an' it ain't gonna come back that easy." He slung her arm across his neck and wrapped his free arm around her waist. "Now, nice and slow, we're gonna go fer a breath of fresh air." Jubilee wore the clothes Logan had brought for her; her own clothes, tunic and trousers, that he'd shoved in the bottom of his pack, thinking she'd need them. They hung loosely on her body now; she was a shrunken shadow of her former self. Logan winced at the sight of her, but didn't allow his distress to show on his face.

The sunlight felt warm on her face after such a long time inside. She pushed off Logan's arm and leaned against the doorframe, closed her eyes, and just soaked up the sun. There hadn't been any windows in the dungeon, and she'd gone pale in the month she'd been imprisoned there. After a moment, her legs gave out and she sank to her knees on the ground in front of the door. Logan hurried to her, reaching down to help her up, but she stiffened and pulled away. He dropped his hands, a hurt expression crossing his face briefly before he rearranged the mask of cheerfulness over it. She turned away from him so he wouldn't see her face. She hated to hurt his feelings by refusing his help…but she couldn't bear anyone touching her. Just the thought of hands on her body…not his, but Julian's, Gallas, and the guards…and she wanted to throw up. The nightmares didn't help either. She woke up at least once a night, sometimes twice, shaking and crying. Logan was always there, whispering comforting words and holding her tightly. The first few moments after one of those dreams, she'd cling to him; it felt nice having someone touch her and not hurt her. Then her body would react to the fact that he was male, and she had to pull away. It wasn't that he would hurt her; she knew he wouldn't. It was the thought of her own body, of how filthy she was. No amount of bathing and scrubbing could get the feel of those hands off her skin; she felt so unutterably dirty.

He held her because he felt sorry for her; but if he knew what had been done to her, if he knew what she did…she wasn't sure he would still care about her after he told her. She had, in the end, begged Julian to allow her to sleep with him, because the alternative, being in the torture chamber alone with her agony and the guards' brutal attentions was too much for her to bear. She had gone willingly to Julian's bed because she was too weak to withstand the torture…and if Logan knew she'd gone willingly he would hate her. And right now she needed him. No one else cared about her; she couldn't lose that. She resolutely pushed it all to the back of her mind and stood shakily, clinging to the doorframe. "Logan?" she finally found her voice. "I can't continue to be your squire." She had known that since she'd woken up. She'd lost too much muscle, and her body was too fragile. When they got back to the castle she would be expected to resume her duties for him, and she knew she couldn't.

"I know, Jubilee." Logan sat beside her, and she let herself fall back to the ground to sit beside him. But not too close. If he noticed it, he didn't mention it. "I been thinkin' bout it. I'm gonna tell everyone that the bandits who raided and torched your hometown were under orders from Gallas. An' they saw ya, and took ya, and yer twin brother Lee thought ya'd been killed. You two were briefly reunited back in the dungeons, but Lee died from the torture; however, he told ya who the traitor was, and asked ya ta tell the King. So I brought ya out ta tell the King. After we have an audience with the King Renee will probably add you to her string of serving maids."

"Will that work?" Jubilee said wonderingly.

"Think so. The only people who know who ya are is Renee, Vincet, the weaponsmaster, and me. They won't tell. I won't, an' you won't…so I think we're pretty safe." He sighed. "Come on. Let's go inside. The sun's settin', and it's gettin' cold."


	36. Return To The Palace

Chapter 36: Return

The audience hall went silent as Logan walked in on the morning of the second week he'd left. Renee, sitting beside Richard, stifled a gasp as she saw the short-haired girl following quietly behind Logan, but said nothing. Beside the King, the Weaponsmaster's face was an impassive mask. As Logan made his way down the middle of the audience hall, he caught a glimpse of Vincet's face. He had to stifle a grin; the man looked like he would start caroling for joy at any moment. He'd talk to Vincet later; right now he had to speak to the King.

He dropped to one knee before King Richard, and behind him, Jubilee dropped into a dainty, feminine curtsy. On the road back to the palace he'd instructed her on what was expected for girls in the palace; she hadn't had much exposure to how the ladies did things, and so needed to be instructed. She'd worked on her curtsy, again and again, until she'd had it perfected. As she rose, though, she winced almost visibly. Renee didn't miss it. Her eyes widened.

"Sir Logan, We are pleased to have you back at court," Richard said, smiling. "We have missed your presence and your counsel immensely. We understand you went to rescue your squire; did you succeed in finding the boy?" Logan bowed his head in a semblance of grief and braced himself. He wasn't a good liar…but he would have to be, in order to pull this off.

"Yer Majesty, I am sorry. The boy…perished…in Gallas's dungeons." A dismayed ripple of whispers echoed throughout the room, and Richard rose.

"There was no ransom demand given! Gallas has violated the rules by which warfare is conducted; he has dishonoured his position and title, and We will not tolerate this!" Logan waited for Richard to stop speaking, and then said, clearly enough that everyone could hear him,

"Yer Majesty, he has paid. In the dearest coin possible." He carefully swung the sheath off his back and upended it on the floor of the raised dais. The two pieces of Gallas's sword clattered out of the ill-fitting sheath, the jewels on the golden hilt winking in the light. "This is Gallas's own sword, Yer Majesty. I met him in the dungeons an' killed him in a fair honour duel. The traitor knight, Julian, was also there; he has also paid fer his treasonous actions with his life." He fished around in hisbelt pouchfor the small onyx and gold ring he had taken from Julian's dead finger in the torture chamber, and placed that on the dais beside the broken sword. "I took his personal crest from his own finger as he lay dyin', Yer Majesty. He is quite dead."

Richard sat down, placated. "And who might this be?" he indicated the still-kneeling Jubilee.

Logan braced himself. "Her name is Jubilee, Yer Majesty. She is Lee's twin sister."

"A twin sister!" Richard rose half-out of his chair, staring at the girl beside Logan. "A marvelous resemblance, isn't it, my dear?" he asked Renee.

"Quite so, Richard," Renee said, her face kind but her eyes dancing with merriment that only Logan could see. "How did she come to be there, Sir Logan?"

"The bandits that attacked Lee's home were sent there by Gallas," Logan said. "Much of the border raiding has been at Gallas's instruction. They shot everyone in Lee's village, but they took the young girl with them. She was the only survivor. Lee had thought she was dead. He didn't know she was alive until he saw her in the dungeons." Logan lowered his eyes and dropped his voice theatrically. "The boy was dying by the time Julian and Gallas fell, Yer Majesty. He asked me to look after his sister, and transferred the life debt I owe him to her. I am now responsible for her care and welfare."

"A sad turn of events indeed," Richard said at last. "My dear, I am sorry for your loss. Everyone liked your brother; We will miss him as well." There was genuine sorrow in the King's voice.

Jubilee ducked her head. "Thank you very much, your Majesty," she said quietly, her voice barely audible. "Your Majesty…I formally request sanctuary in your lands. The guards in the dungeons were…quite cruel…and I would not like to return there."

Richard nodded. "Your request for sanctuary is granted. You may live here in the palace for as long as you wish—" he broke off as Jubilee swayed there, on her knees, and then tumbled from the dais in a dead faint, her strength spent. Renee leaped up from her throne and hurried down the steps. Logan had reacted first, reaching Jubilee's side before the Queen, and lifted her gently in his arms.

"She is exhausted, Yer Majesty," Logan said carefully. "With yer permission, I would like ta take her ta the Healer's, and then seek lodging for her among the rooms in the Ladies' chambers."

"Yes, yes, go ahead," Richard waved his hand. "You are dismissed. Do whatever you must, Sir Logan."

Renee gave her husband a shallow bow. "I will go along, My King," she said gently. 'Sir Logan may require assistance." Richard nodded, and Renee exited the room, Logan following behind him, carrying Jubilee. Once outside the throne room, and out of hearing of anyone else, Renee dropped the formal Queen-to-subject air and dropped to Logan's side, looking worriedly at Jubilee. "How is she?" she asked.

Logan sighed. "Not good, Yer Majesty," he said grimly. "Julian and Gallasstarved her, and allowed the dungeon guards to assault her repeatedly. We had ta stop at Mistress Mary's fer a week or so," He had told Renee about Mary when he had come back the last time, before he'd left. "She was too sick ta travel. She got some of her strength back, but she's still far from healed. They hurt her bad."

Renee led Logan to an empty room not far from hers. "In here," she said, opening the door and motioning Logan in. As Logan carefully placed Jubilee's limp form on the bed in the room, Renee flagged down a passing page. "Robin. Run and get the healer, please. And hurry." The boy sped off along the hall. She closed the door and turned to the bed. Logan had laid Jubilee on her side, and was unlacing the back of the dress. Renee gave a soft, sick whimper at the sight of the bones sticking out harshly beneath paper-thin skin, and swayed in shock. "Dear God," she whispered, falling to her knees beside the bed. "How did she survive that? How could Gallas…and Sir Julian…do this to her? I liked Sir Julian!" Logan looked at her, and she saw the same sick anguish in his eyes that was in her own.

"I don't know," he said quietly. "One of the other prisoners said she went mad fer a time; they left her alone until she found her mind again, then starved her and gave her only enough to eat and drink to stay alive." He took a deep breath. "Yer Majesty…"

"Call me Renee," Renee said quietly. "I think we've progressed beyond the aloof courtesy between Queen and subject." She smiled up at him. "Only between us, though."

"Renee, then," Logan said. "I ask a boon from you. Will you seek for a place where she might stay? Maybe some minor Lady of the court who might need another serving girl?"

"Wouldn't you rather she stayed here?" Renee said innocently, not looking up. "I could use another lady-in-waiting, and the duties will not be so hard that she will be overtaxed. Certainly nothing as strenuous as being your squire."

Logan was stunned. "Yer Majesty…Renee…that would…" he stopped stuttering for a moment, gathered his thoughts, and then went to one knee before Renee. "I thank you, My Queen, fer the favor," he said formally.

They were interrupted by the sound of the door opening, and the page admitted the healer, then closed the door carefully behind him. The man hurried toward the bed, seeing only theemaciated back, and froze in complete shock as he saw his patient's face. "But…she…he…"

"Her name is Jubilee, Healer," Renee said. "Sir Logan brought her back as Lee's twin sister. The explanation seems to have been accepted, and from henceforth she will be one of my ladies-in-waiting. Her identity as Logan's former squire will not be revealed, Healer, do you understand?" Her tone was still soft, but her eyes were hard.

The healer knew what those eyes meant. "Of course, Your Majesty. If you wish it." He bowed to Renee, and turned his attention to Jubilee. Fortunately she remained unconscious while he ministered to her wounds, applying healing salve to the cuts on her back and body, bandaging the worst of the wounds and cleaning the dust of the road from her hands and feet. Finally he stood back. "That is all I can do, my Queen," he said to Renee. "I shall send up a female healer to inspect those parts of her which I am not qualified to heal. She seems to be sleeping soundly; and she will likely remain so for a while."

Renee sighed in relief. "Thank you," she told the man. He bowed and left. She tuned to Logan. "Perhaps you should go," she said. "It wouldn't be seemly for you to be seen here with her too often…until the proper amount of time has passed, and you can openly court her. People will get suspicious if they see you near her too much. They'll think you know her rather better than you should."

Logan nodded, climbing to his feet and sitting on the end of the bed. "You're right. But I won't court her, Yer Majes—Renee. She can just barely stand ta have me touch her right now; she won't welcome any advances."

"Maybe not now," Renee said serenely, pulling up the edge of the blanket to cover Jubilee's sleeping form. "But she will, eventually. She will heal, Logan. And the painful memories will fade. Just give it time."

He looked at her hopefully. "Do you think so?"

Renee sighed. The hope in Sir Logan's eyes reminded her that, for all his battle experience and hard outer shell, Sir Logan was still only a young man hoping to win the hand of the lady he loved. "I know she will, I'm a woman," she said, patting his shoulder gently. "Now go on. You must be tired from your long journey."

Logan sighed as he reached his room door. Now that Jubilee's needs had been met, his own were starting to demand his attention. He badly wanted to change into clean clothes, grab something to eat, and then sleep for maybe a week. They had traveled all day and made camp or slept at inns on the week's journey back, but they had gone slowly to ease the strain on her still-healing body, and he had spent a lot of the nights soothing her when she woke screaming and crying from her dreams. He hadn't gotten much sleep. He opened the door to his room…and then walked in and closed it quickly so no one would see who awaited him inside his room. "If you show too much interest in her others'll suspect," he said to the occupied chairs before the fire.

The occupants of those chairs turned around, revealing the Weaponsmaster's craggy face and Vincet's broad grin. "Well, I can say I've come to see you," Vincet started, "Which wouldn't be a lie…"

"And I came to find out what happened to you while you were gone," The Weaponsmaster said, smiling too. "She does look different in a dress, doesn't she? If it weren't for the hair and the eyes, I wouldn't have recognized her." He waved a hand at the table in the corner of Logan's room, and Logan looked at it. There was food heaped on a tray; meat and cheese, hunks of bread, wine, fruit, and nuts awaited him. Logan saw the food and forgot everything else; he sat down and started eating. "So," The Weaponsmaster said as Logan drank down the last of the wine. "Start at the beginning. And oh…Richard has looked at the sword you brought back, and declared it genuine. You're saved the kingdom; he's trying to think of a suitable reward for you." Logan choked on a mouthful of bread. The Weaponsmaster smiled. "So. Tell us what happened."

Between bites, Logan outlined everything that happened since he'd left, paying particular attention to the details of the fight and their escape. The Weaponsmaster listened intently, occasionally asking questions, which Logan tried to answer as best as he could. The man didn't stop until he had every possible detail about everything that happened out of Logan, and then sat back as Vincet took his turn.

"So tell me about her," Vincet said. "You said you found her in the torture chamber? What…" he swallowed hard. "Is she…"

Logan sat back, looking haunted. "You name it, they did it," he said. "She ain't a girl anymore, she's a woman. And she don't want ta have anything ta do with me. She hates just havin' me around, much less touchin' her." He sighed. "Renee said she'd heal, and she'd come ta love me in time. I doubt it."

The Weaponsmaster stroked his chin while he thought that over. "I can't say for certain, but I think she will," he said finally. "If she cares about you as much as it looks like she does, she'll come around in time. Just…be there for her." He saw Logan's look. "I've seen a lot of women in the aftermath of war who have gone through traumatic experiences. She will heal. I swear this to you."

"I hope so," Logan said fervently. "Oh, God, I hope so. I care about her, and I hate seein' her so scared, so shy. I hate seein' her flinch when I touch her, and I hate seein' her go through those bad dreams she has. I lost count o' how many times she's woken up in the middle o' the night while we was travelin', screamin' an' cryin' from remembering what they done ta her."

Jubilee stirred. Something felt different. She lay still, keeping her eyes closed as she tried to figure out what felt different. After a moment she realized what it was; the absence of pain. Since her first day in the dungeon, pain had been a constant presence in her body; the ache in her whipped back, the throbbing in her loins, pangs in her stomach from hunger and thirst.. There was no pain now.

She opened her eyes, looked up. Above her was a stone ceiling, dappled with sunlight from the casement window above her and off to her left. She turned her head slightly to look, and felt an unfamiliar stiffness behind her neck and back. She raised one arm gingerly to touch the back of her neck, and found it swathed in bandages. "Hey," came a quiet voice. "You're awake."

She flicked her eyes down toward the end of the bed, and saw Renee, sitting in a chair and quietly sewing on a length of fabric. A gown, from the way it looked. As soon as she saw Jubilee's eyes open, she set the sewing down and approached the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Terrible," Jubilee croaked. Renee had lost that regal air, and Jubilee figured they were alone, and it was safe to address the queen as just another woman. Not that she could have managed to get out of bed to kneel, anyway. "What's this?" she indicated the bandages across her back.

"You fainted in the audience hall," Renee said gently. "I had Logan bring you here. Since you have nowhere else to go, I've arranged to have you join my ladies-in-waiting. This will be your room from now on. The healers will come to see you here." She studied Jubilee quietly. "Logan will come to see you here."

"No," Jubilee choked a little, and tried to hide the quiver in her voice. "No, he can't…I can't see him…I can't bear to have a man around, and it's so much worse when it's him…" she felt the tears start to flow as she gasped, "Please. It…he cares, he's so gentle and kind and helpful…but I can't help tensing when he gets near me, and it hurts him to see that…"

Renee placed a soothing hand on Jubilee's shoulder as she sat on the edge of the bed. "It's all right, Jubilee. He loves you. Loves you enough to give you time. Just try and take it one day at a time, little by little. Eventually the memory of the pain will fade, and you'll want to see him then. Do you love him?"

Jubilee nodded tearfully. "Yes."

"Then just give it time. It will work out."


	37. The Ball

Chapter 37: The Ball

"Duke Gilbert."

The Weaponsmaster's jaw dropped; he looked incredulous. Jubilee nodded shortly. "I heard Gallas say it was the Duke," she said. "I'm positive."

The Weaponsmaster shook his head. "If I told Richard…he could believe it of almost any other duke in court…except Gilbert. Gilbert…my God, he's the King's cousin, girl! Are you sure? You were pretty badly hurt, you're still recovering…it's possible you could have misheard what Gallas said."

Jubilee looked upset. "I know what I heard, sir. It was Gilbert, I'm certain of it." Why were they doubting her? They had never doubted anything 'Lee' said, so why were they now…it was because she was a girl. That had to be it. None of the pages were questioned for what they heard or said.

Logan, sitting next to Jubilee, saw her dismay. "Look, if that's what she said she heard, then that's what she heard. Don't bug her about it. What are ya gonna do about it?"

The Weaponsmaster cleared his throat. "Uh…well, we can't just go around accusing the King's cousin of treason," he said. "We have to have some solid evidence. Let me see what the spies can come up with, and then I'll confront King Richard." He cleared his throat again, his face lightening. "Now. In the meantime…I wanted to let you know that Richard has officially declared the war over. In celebration of that, we'll be having a ball. You're all invited to attend."

Jubilee's mouth fell open, startled out of her dismay by this piece of news. "A ball?" she choked on the words.

"A ball," the Weaponsmaster said, his eyes twinkling. "And you'll have to attend. Everyone's curious about the girl Logan brought back from Gallas's fortress, and very few people have seen you. You've been hiding in your room entirely too much. This will be a good opportunity to get out and interact a bit with others."

"Oh, no," Jubilee shook her head. "I'm not going. I can't! I've got nothing to wear, and I don't know how to dance!"

"I think we can fix that," Renee said, speaking for the first time since Logan had brought the Weaponsmaster into her suite, insisting that Jubilee had something she needed to tell him. "Weaponsmaster, do what you can about finding evidence. I give you one week. At the end of that time, I want you to tell me what you have found. If nothing, I will go to the King myself. I can make him listen. Now, all of you, out. Jubilee is tired, and it's been a long day." Without further ceremony, she hustled the two men out of her suite, leaving her and Jubilee alone.

"A ball," Jubilee said disbelievingly. "I've never been to a ball before. I have nothing to wear, and I don't know how to dance! Can I not attend?"

"You and Logan need to be there," Renee said, sympathetically but firmly. "Logan's going to be receiving an award from the King, and I don't think you're going to want to miss it." She grinned suddenly, her eyes sparkling. "And dancing isn't hard; you can learn easily." She went to her closet, opening the doors and looking at the gowns arranged neatly in it. "As for the gown…I think there's something here we can get to fit you. You're not that much shorter than I am, and a few extra seams to cover your thinness here and there won't be noticed."

Jubilee blushed and looked down at her hands. It had been almost a month since she and Logan had returned to the castle. Although she'd spent most of the time resting, or doing some light fetching and carrying for Renee, she hadn't managed to fully gain back her strength and health, and it was most obvious in the thinness of her body. She was dreadfully self-conscious of the way she looked; and even as the summer weather got sultry and sticky, she insisted on wearing a high-necked, long-sleeved gown to cover the scars on her body. Renee had told her not to try and cover them up; more people would respect her once they'd seen what she'd endured. But Jubilee stubbornly insisted on hiding as much as possible, and covering up when she couldn't hide.

Renee had tried to tell the girl that it was nonsense, but Jubilee wouldn't listen. A compulsory ball was exactly what she needed; something she would have to dress for, and be forced to mingle with the other members of court. And, Renee thought as she turned back to her closet and looked at her selection of gowns, it was an ideal platform to try and catch Logan's attention. Jubilee was hiding in the Queen's rooms, partly because of her uncertain health and partly to hide from Logan. Renee had been watching them closely. Logan cared about Jubilee; Jubilee cared about Logan. However, she was still suffering the mental aftereffects of her brutal handling back at the fortress, and Logan was too much of a gentleman to try and insist on seeing her when she obviously didn't want to see him. Renee had just about enough of all this.

"This will be perfect," she said, reaching into the closet and coming out with a deep crimson gown she had never worn. She had had it made…and then realized the color wasn't suitable for her coloring at all. It would be perfect for Jubilee, with her dark hair (now just past her shoulders) and her fair skin and bright blue eyes.

Jubilee stared in dismay. "I can't wear that," she said, finally finding her voice.

"Why not?" Renee sighed inwardly. Jubilee could be incredibly stubborn; she'd found that out already. It was going to have to take a lot of coaxing to get Jubilee into this gown…but Renee was determined to get the girl to wear the dress even if she had to order the girl to do it.  
Jubilee stared at the rich crimson satin. She'd never worn something so rich before; surely she'd tear it, or spill something on it, and Renee would be upset. Not to mention the neckline, which was so low that she was sure some of the scars on her shoulders and the back of her neck would show. She shook her head determinedly. "I can't wear that," she said again, firmly.

"Sure you can," Renee said briskly. "Stand up." Before Jubilee could protest, Renee had unlaced Jubilee's dress herself and taken it off, leaving the young girl dressed in nothing but her shift. She carefully forced herself not to flinch at the sight of the scars, still markedly redder than the rest of Jubilee's honey-colored skin, and settled the dress over Jubilee's head. Her hands worked swiftly with the laces and buttons on the dress, and then turned Jubilee to face the piece of polished glass that served as a mirror. "See? You don't look so bad."

Jubilee stared at herself in the mirror for a minute. Her hands came up involuntarily, trying to cover her thin, protruding collarbones, touched the edge of one scar that peeked over the top of the gown, on the smooth outward curve of her breast, and shook her head. "I can't," she whispered. "My scars… I'm too thin…please, Renee."

There was a tap at the door, and Renee called out, "Who is it"

"Sir Vincet, Your Majesty; I have a message for you from the Duchess of Sanford, whom I've just come back from visiting…" Renee pulled the door open, holding it open for him to enter. Vincet walked in.

Jubilee, at the mirror, turned around, and the piece of parchment fluttered from his hand as he stared at her. Renee scooped the missive from the floor and opened it, sitting in a chair to read while she watched Vincet and Jubilee out the corner of her eye. She knew Vincet liked Jubilee; but she also knew that Vincet had more women than he could count, and was unsuitable for a shy, withdrawn girl like Jubilee. However, his experience with women—and what women wore—would help her in her quest to get Jubilee to wear this gown to the ball. Jubilee looked stunning in it; Logan would be floored. Renee was certain of it.

"Uh…" Vincet was speechless for a moment, and Jubilee stood there, wishing she could melt through the floor. He was staring at her; she probably looked so bad in it he was trying to tell her what he thought without hurting her feelings.

She hastily said, "Uh…I know, it's awful on me, Renee just wanted me to try it on."

Vincet shook his head, finding his voice. "No, no, I wasn't thinking that at all…you look wonderful, Jubilee, really…The dress is fantastic, it's perfect. The color makes your eyes look like sapphires, and your hair looks darker. It's beautiful. Are you wearing it to the ball"

"Uh, I…" It was Jubilee's turn to be at a loss for words. Of all the reactions she could have gotten, this wasn't one she expected. She collected her wits. No, she was not wearing this to the ball…or was she? If she wore it, would Logan's eyes shine at her the way Vincet's eyes were shining now?

She'd barely seen him lately. When they'd first gotten to the castle, she had avoided him because the mere sight of a man brought back hideous memories of what had happened to her; she had woken up more than a few times in the middle of the night, shaking and desperately trying to stifle her screams as her body remembered the pain. Since then, they'd gotten a little less frequent, to the point where she was no longer afraid to sleep, and now she began to look at men again. It was hard not to; the queen had a large number of serving maids and ladies in waiting, and all the women who weren't married had at least some man to whom they gave favours. And, sitting in the sewing room with them, working on mending and fancy needlework, she had listened to gossip. That had educated her as to what was really supposed to happen between men and women, and one lady had gone into considerable detail one morning on what her lover had felt like on the previous night. Even as she blushed Jubilee had wondered whether it would be like that for herself and Logan.

Not that she was all that eager to try it out…but she wondered. If the maids liked it so much, surely it couldn't have hurt as much as it did with Julian, Gallas, and later, with the guards. There had to be something to physical love besides pain, or the women wouldn't like it so much. Her curiosity had been piqued…and she did miss Logan. More than she thought she would. "Does it look that good?" she turned back to the mirror.

Vincet looked at the Queen. A smile was hovering around the corner of her lips, and she gave him a sly wink. He grinned back at her. "Yes it does," he said, and meant it. She was stunning in that red dress. "If you haven't decided to wear that dress yet, then do. Logan will love it."

She turned around so fast he almost didn't have time to school his features into a properly awed look. "Really? Do you think he will"

Vincet smiled at her. "Yes, he will," he said to her. So that was it. She still loved Logan enough to care what he thought about what she wore. "Red happens to be his favorite color"

"Really?" Jubilee looked back at the mirror. "You don't think it's…too bright?"

Vincet grinned. "No, it's not. It's perfect. Wear the dress. He'll love it."

Logan fussed with his clothes. As one of the King's Knights, he had the option of wearing the red and gold dress uniform; it was a rich, deep red tunic with gold trim and braid all over it, and a dark-red shoulder cape with gold brocade on it, or his own colors. He would much rather have worn his blue and yellow colors, but Vincet had been most insistent on Logan's wearing the dress uniform.

"Are ya sure 'bout this?" he growled behind him, where Vincet was sitting in a chair and watching Logan dress. "I'd rather wear my own colors."

"Wear the dress uniform, Logan," he said. "Trust me, in about ten minutes you'll be glad you did."

"What do ya know that I don't?" Logan glared at the man warily, but Vincet only grinned that annoying, infuriating grin he'd been wearing all day and refused to answer. Instead, he stood up, took Logan's elbow, and steered him toward the door. "Go on down."

He descended the stairs into the main hall, raising his eyebrow as he saw the Weaponsmaster apparently deep in conversation with the king. The week Renee had given the man had come and gone; Logan didn't know if he had found anything, but he hoped he was down there talking to the King about Gilbert. Unlike the Weaponsmaster, Logan knew that Jubilee was to be completely trusted when she said Gilbert was the traitor. She wouldn't have said anything if she wasn't sure. The Weaponsmaster thought that she might have been so disoriented from her torture; Logan didn't think so.

Vincet joined him a moment later, carefully adjusting the golden clasp that held his cloak settled rakishly over one shoulder, as was the fashion that year. Logan grinned at him and yanked on the end, earning an offended look from Vincet as the other knight hurried to refasten the cloak. "Stop that," he said irritably. "I want to make a good impression on Sylvie." Logan looked across the room to the knot of ladies gathered around the entrance the Queen would come from. He spotted Sylvie, Vincet's current paramour, in a butter-yellow dress that complimented the long brown-red hair and green eyes. The neckline of her dress, however, left little of her charms to the imagination, and he could already see other men in the room eyeing her; and not all of them were single.

"Yeah, well, ya might have a little competition there," he said. Vincet stopped fussing with his cloak and looked around at the glances Sylvie was getting, and gritted his teeth. In a few strides, he crossed the floor and took the woman's elbow possessively, and she excused herself from her friends to follow Vincet.

The Queen then entered, with her ladies-in-waiting, and Logan searched the women for Jubilee. Renee had said she was going to bring Jubilee; where was she? The only dark head he saw was a slim, stylishly-dressed young woman, talking to another woman with her back to him. Then, as if she felt Logan's gaze on her, she turned, and his breath caught in his throat.

He wasn't sure what she had done to her hair, but the shoulder-length black mane hung full and soft, the lower half loose while the upper half was wrapped in shining, dark braids. The gown she wore was only a shade darker than his uniform, and the tiny gold ornaments glittering at her throat and ears (gifts, or loans, from the Queen) accented her pale skin. She still looked pale…and then, as her eyes locked with his, a flush rose in her cheeks, making her look, suddenly, beautiful.  
He reminded himself to throttle Vincet tomorrow after the ball. The other knight had obviously known what Jubilee was going to wear, as evidenced by his insisting that Logan wear the red uniform…and he hadn't told Logan. The very least he could have done was prepare Logan for the sight of so much of Jubilee's skin showing!

He walked over, and the gossiping among the ladies stopped almost immediately. Logan ignored all of them, going straight to Jubilee's side. Up close the dress was even more magnificent, and the blush on her cheeks just made her prettier. He dropped to one knee, taking her hand in his, and pressed the back of her hand to his lips. "My lady," he said silkily.

Jubilee felt a rush of warmth spread from the back of her hand, run up her arm, and race through her entire body. "My lord," she said, dropping into a low, graceful curtsy. As she rose, the musicians struck the opening chords to a slow waltz, and Logan sighed with relief. Slow waltzes he could do; faster ones, he couldn't. "Shall we dance, my lady?"

Jubilee almost forgot to breathe. Logan had called her 'his lady'; and he'd just asked her to dance. She hadn't expected to be asked this early; Renee had told her she would probably dance a couple of times, and then spend the rest of the evening sipping wine, nibbling food, and talking.  
She remembered, rather belatedly, that she was supposed to say something. "Certainly, Sir Logan," she replied with another feminine curtsy. "I'd love to dance." She could hear the other women whispering behind her as she walked off with Logan to the dance floor, on which Richard and Renee were already poised and waiting for other couples to form, and took their places four couples down from the King and Queen. The music began.

"You look beautiful tonight," Logan said as their fingers twined. Again she felt that tingle. She smiled, a bright, genuine smile that hadn't crossed her face since they had been captured. It felt good. "Thank you, Sir Logan," she said demurely, but her eyes sparkled. "You look handsome yourself."

Logan flushed with pleasure as they closed together in the pattern of the dance. "Thanks," he said gruffly. Unable to think of anything else to say, they danced in silence for several measures for a moment. Then the music changed, and the other couples came together in a close embrace. Logan hesitated; would she still have that aversion to being touched? He wouldn't touch her if she didn't want him to…

She stepped close to him, taking his arm and wrapping it around his waist, then reached up under his arm until her gloved hand rested against his shoulder blades. She took a step, drawing him into the dance with her, thanking Renee silently, and they moved together for a time. As the music concluded, Logan took her hand and led her over to a nearby chair. She was out of breath, and her thin chest was heaving. "Stay here. I'll get a glass of wine for you," he said gently, and disappeared into the crowd.

The chair next to her squeaked, and Jubilee looked over…and saw Duke Gilbert next to her. "Hello, my dear," he said, his voice even but dangerous as he took her elbow in a grip of steel. He pulled upwards, almost dislocating her wrist as he forced her to rise. He led her over to the large doors opening out to the courtyard, ignoring her attempts to fight him. "I haven't seen you since Logan brought you back from King Gallas's fortress. We need to have a talk, 'Lee'."


	38. Duel

Chapter 38: Duel

"Someone has been asking questions about me," Gilbert said. "Questions about my motives. Since those questions didn't start until you came back from the border, that means you're the one who told them about my…outside interests." He seized Jubilee's thin wrist in a bruising grip. "Weren't you?" He looked at her, and the expression in his eyes was ugly. "Gallas and Julian may be dead, little former squire, but I still have plans. I want the throne, and I will have what I want."

Jubilee struggled to disengage herself, but he was too strong. "You'll never be the King," she spat angrily. "You're hurting me, stop it, let go of me," she gasped, but he held tighter.

"Gallas or Julian spoke my name when they were around you, didn't they," he hissed angrily. "And you told Sir Logan. He's been asking questions; fortunately no one else seems to believe that I'm the traitor. And it will stay that way, won't it?" he smiled at her grimly. "Listen to what I say, girl. If you don't stop it, tell everyone you were mistaken, I'll kill you, and your precious Sir Logan, too. Would you like that?"

"You won't kill Logan. You can't, he's too good with a sword." Jubilee stared at him with undisguised hatred in her eyes. "He'll kill you."

"I won't have to kill him." Gilbert turned and beckoned at a dark shadow. "My…partner, I guess you could call him…could take care of him easily." As he spoke, the other man stepped from shadows into the circle of light thrown from the open doors of the hall, and Jubilee saw who it was.

"You," she croaked. The dark, swarthy face, hulking shoulders and frame, and evil leer was enough for her. She knew that face; recognized that face. "You killed my parents!" Her voice rose, and she opened her mouth to scream for help.

Hughes whipped forward, so fast he was beside Jubilee in an instant. His hand clamped over her mouth, shutting off her scream of panic, and his arm came across her chest, pinning her arms to her side. She struggled, but her own feeble strength was no match for the much taller, stronger man. "Take her," he told Hughes.

Jubilee flailed wildly, but the tricks Logan had taught her for hand-to-hand combat were little help now. She was still too weak, and the long skirts of the dress restricted her movement. Her only option was to scream. She opened her mouth and clamped down as hard as she could on the man's finger, biting deep. The taste of blood filled her mouth, and she wanted to retch. Suppressing the urge furiously, she ground her teeth deeper into the finger.

Hughes howled and shoved her away from him forcefully, and she reeled back a few steps. With a muttered curse, he examined his bleeding finger, and then lifted a fist and punched her. She fell heavily to the paving stones, her head spinning, and cried out in pain.

Gilbert grabbed the shoulder of her dress and tried to haul her to her feet. She was still dazed from the blow, and reeled away from his grip, tearing the dress in the process. She stumbled toward the open door of the hall, only a few feet away, but was grabbed from behind by Gilbert. She opened her mouth before they could silence her again and screamed.

The couples closest to the door stopped and stared. The musicians stopped too; and in the silence her scream carried clearly into the ballroom. There was a ripple of disturbance in the room, and she saw Logan starting to make his way toward her. She screamed again, in panic and pain, and seconds later she felt her hand being grabbed in Logan's firm but gentle grip, and he pulled her out of Gilbert's grip and into his own. She clung to his side, snuggled in the crook of his arm, and he drew his dress sword and extended it toward Gilbert. "What were ya doin' ta Jubilee, traitor?" he growled at the man.

Gilbert spread his hands. "She wasn't feeling well, so I brought her out into the courtyard for a breath of fresh air," he said placatingly. "I tried to offer her my cloak against the chill, but she mistook my intentions, I believe. In her struggle to get away from me, she tore her dress." He came forward, holding his cloak (which had been dislodged in Jubilee's frantic efforts to free herself) and tried to drape it over her shoulders. She cringed away from him, turning her face in toward Logan's shoulder, and as she did he saw the bruise spreading across her temple. He touched it gently, and his fingers came away damp with blood. There was the impression of a heavy ring on her pale skin.

"You lie." Logan's voice was cold. Still keeping Jubilee snugged tight to his side, he extended the arm that held his sword. "She's hurt. Ya hurt her. Yer a liar."

"You accuse me of lying?" Gilbert drew himself up indignantly. "I don't lie! Take that back!"

"Make me." Logan stepped forward, sword held ready.

"Halt!" came a commanding voice. Richard stepped forward, raising a hand. Both Logan and Gilbert put their swords down immediately. "What's happened?" he saw Jubilee leaning on Logan, and said, rather more gently, "I think your Lady needs attention, Sir Logan."

Vincet broke through the crowd, minus Sylvie, and took Jubilee's hand. He drew her away from Logan, and looked at the wound on her temple as he sat her down on a stone bench along the wall, used to seat waiting guests. "She'll be all right," he said, removing his own cloak and draping it over her shoulders, covering the skin left exposed by the torn dress. "Just bruised. What happened, Jubilee?' he asked her.

"Gilbert," she whispered, rubbing her aching head. "He wanted me to take back what I said, tell everyone I was mistaken about being a traitor. Told me if I didn't he'd have his servant Hughes kill Logan."

"Hughes?" Vincet looked around. "I don't see anyone else here."

Gilbert broke in. "There was no one else here. The girl is lying."

"You callin' my Lady a liar?" Logan bristled, raising his sword angrily. "Take that back, or I'll make ya—"

"Stop," Richard said firmly. "We have heard both sides. Our Queen has also told Us a thing We can hardly credit; that Our cousin and friend Gilbert has plans to take over the throne. We are sure it cannot be true; is it?"

"No, Your Majesty, of course not!" Gilbert looked offended by the idea. He gave the King a low sweeping bow. "I am, as always, your loyal servant. Whosoever says otherwise is a liar, and I will face him on a field of combat and prove my loyalty. God will be on my side in such a duel, and my innocence will be proved."

"Then prepare to die," Logan growled. "Cause yer loyalty ain't worth a clipped copper."

"A duel?" Gilbert said coldly.

"A duel," Logan said.

"Agreed," Gilbert said coolly. "Out here, at sunrise."

Logan nodded.

At sunrise the next morning half the castle turned up on the knights' practice field. The Weaponsmaster had used rope and short stakes to mark out a square on the ground, and Logan and Gilbert stood in either corner, each practicing with their swords. Jubilee stood next to Vincet on Logan's side, watching Gilbert warily; but of the tall, dark man there had been no sign.

"Do you see him?" Logan asked her, stopping for a moment. "If ya see him, I won't hesitate ta call him out too, for hurtin' ya."

Jubilee scanned the spectators. "I don't," she said uncertainly. She couldn't help thinking that if Logan were to win this duel, both she and Logan would have to watching their backs against Gilbert and Hughes. If she saw him, and Logan had to fight him as well as Gilbert, he might not survive. So it was with a light heart that she decided he wasn't there and turned her attention to the Weaponsmaster, standing just outside the demarcated square and preparing to begin the combat.

Richard rose from his seat, and the crowd quieted. "Our cousin, Gilbert, and Our knight, Sir Logan, will duel here today," he said. "Sir Logan has accused Our cousin Gilbert of treachery, which is a serious offense; and Sir Gilbert accuses Logan's Lady of lying in her suspicions of his recent action. The question will be settled here. If Our cousin wins, Logan's Lady must apologize; if Logan wins, it will mean that God has decreed that Our cousin is guilty. If this happensWe will decide what is to happen. Begin." He sat down.

Logan stood in his side of the dueling circle; Gilbert stood at the other. The Weaponsmaster stood in the middle. "The duel will end at first blood," he said clearly, "The loser will be the first one to bleed. Commence." He stepped back, out of the circle.

Logan and Gilbert circled each other warily, looking for an opening. Once, twice, thrice around the circle…and then Gilbert lunged, a short, sharp movement toward Logan's right side. Logan brought his sword around to his right, and made ready to parry a blow.

However, Gilbert's sword was no longer there. He'd only feinted. As soon as Logan brought his sword to the right, Gilbert lunged to the left; and Logan was only narrowly saved from being spitted by ducking quickly off to the side. Gilbert's sword swung around to follow Logan, but the other man was moving too quickly for Gilbert to follow. He only just barely got his own sword over to the right to parry Logan's slash to Gilbert's left leg.

Logan ducked under Gilbert's arm and crossed around behind the other man. Gilbert's back presented a perfect target for a long moment, and Jubilee thought he might take advantage of it to score a hit and end the duel. But Logan made no move, and Jubilee cursed Logan's sense of honour. That honour would never let Logan stab another man in the back. He waited until Gilbert turned all the way around before making another move.

The sound of clashing swords silenced the spectators as Gilbert abandoned his short, sharp thrusts. He closed with Logan directly, forcing the other man to go on the defensive. Logan matched him, stroke for stroke, parrying each thrust, each cut, with his sword. He focused his concentration on not giving ground; if he stepped outside the circle, or if he dropped his guard for even a minute, Gilbert would take advantage of it and strike. Of them both, Logan was the more experienced, and younger and quicker; but Gilbert wasn't fighting completely with honour, and he was also taller and heavier than Logan. That gave him the advantage in a close fight.

He stayed on the balls of his feet, moving quickly enough that the other man couldn't pin him down. Out the corner of his eye he could see Jubilee's tense, worried, white face, and decided to stop prolonging her anxiety. The dark bruise on her temple caught his attention, and a fresh surge of anger welled up in his mind. She'd been through too much already; she didn't need to be abused here at home. He watched carefully for an opening, and when he saw Gilbert lower the point of his sword slightly so he could shift his grip on the hilt, Logan acted.

He darted in, under Gilbert's arm, and thrust outward in a quick, shallow jabbing motion. The point of his sword slid under Gilbert's arm and pricked him just under the ribs. He didn't thrust hard enough to incapacitate; just hard enough to draw blood.

And bleed Gilbert did. A satisfying crimson stain spread rapidly over the light-green tunic he'd worn. Logan dropped his sword immediately, and Gilbert stared in shock at the spreading red stain. Logan lowered his sword, stood straight, and saluted his opponent in the traditional way before turning to face the side of the dueling circle. Jubilee was standing there, her face alight with pride and happiness, and he dropped his sword on the grass as he started toward her.

He never saw it coming.

Gilbert, furious at his defeat, lunged for Logan, sword outthrust, and caught Logan in the back, on his left side just under his ribs. Logan gasped, his eyes going wide, and then the pain of the sword tip delving deep into his body made him stagger. He fell heavily to the ground, gasping for breath, and the impact caused stars to explode in his head.

The Weaponsmaster and Jubilee and Vincet stared. It was a violation of the rules; a dishonourable thing to do. Logan had drawn first blood; by duelists' rules, he had won, and Gilbert had lost. They hadn't agreed to make this a duel to the death…but that was apparently what was on Gilbert's mind as he stood over Logan's prone body with his sword raised, ignoring the angry shouts of the spectators and the King's loud demand. "Stop! Gilbert, stop!"

Time seemed to slow. Jubilee barely realized she was moving; all she could think about was keeping that sword from stabbing Logan again. She was focused on the two men, one standing over the other, and she never felt herself picking up the sword Logan had discarded and scrambling over the low ropes that delineated the dueling circle. She saw the sword coming down in a shining arc over Logan's helpless body…and acted without thinking.

The clash of Gilbert's sword against the sword she held jolted her out of her unthinking trance. The impact seemed to send vibrations up her arms, and it took all of her strength to hold the sword steady and not drop it. It had been almost two months since she'd last handled one; and while her mind remembered how she was supposed to swing it, wasted, atrophied muscles refused to respond to what she told them to do. And the long skirts hampered her movements.

Gilbert…roared. It was the only way anyone would have been able to describe the sound he made. Jubilee almost froze when she looked up into his face; it was such a mask of rage and thwarted desire that he looked almost insane. He raised his sword again, tried to bring it down. Again she parried, just in time, her arms trembling with the effort. Logan's sword was much heavier than hers, and her grip was made all the more precarious by the fact that the last two fingers of her one hand didn't work properly.

Gilbert saw her shift her grip on the sword, and he remembered. Julian had shot her hands, severing the muscles of two fingersand making that hand weak. If he could render that hand unusable… he lunged toward her, point first. She parried, and he took the chance to lock blades with her, hilt to hilt. She couldn't afford to take her other hand off the hilt to push him back by the wrist; he knew that. It was taking every ounce of strength in her body just to hold the sword steady.

He reached for her weak hand with his free hand, and gripped her wrist. He could feel the ridges of scars under his fingers, and the thought of how she had gotten them made him smile. Grinning evilly at he, he closed his fingers tighter around the thin wrist, grinding her wrist bones together. She cried out with the pain, but refused to let go of the sword. He exerted more pressure. She almost screamed. And then, in a move he hadn't anticipated, she leaned her head forward and sank her teeth into his hand.

He howled, let go of her hand, and she slid backward, taking the sword in her left hand and shaking her right. The imprint of his fingers was clear against her pale skin, and she looked like she was in pain. But she never took her eyes off him, trying to anticipate his next move.

He swung at her, and she danced backward. Another overhand swing; she ducked under it. A slash aimed at her middle…and she flipped backward on her hands, turning a back somersault out of reach of his blade.

The entire field of spectators froze. They had seen that move before; Logan's squire, Lee, did backward somersaults on a galloping horse sometimes just for fun while he had played. There was no way Jubilee could have done such a move…unless…

Jubilee and Lee were the same person.

Jubilee ignored them. She knew the field had suddenly gone silent; she didn't know why, and she really couldn't take the time to look around. Gilbert was pressing her hard, and she had to use every trick she knew to keep out of his reach, while not moving an inch. She had planted herself firmly between Logan and Gilbert, and was quite determined that the only way Gilbert would kill Logan was if he killed her. The wrist he'd grabbed throbbed, and she could barely move it; she silently thanked Logan for taking the time, after the arrow incident, to teach her how to fight with her other hand. His sword was unwieldy in her hands, and she knew her muscles would ache when this ended, but at the moment all she cared about was keeping Gilbert off Logan. "Stop it," she screamed. "Stop it, stop it! You've lost, traitor! Give yourself up to the King's justice!"

Gilbert ignored her furious cry, and swung again. This time, she was unable to parry in time, and the sword traced a line of fire across her collarbone, slicing through the thin material of her dress like a hot knife through soft butter. She cried out in pain as blood spurted from the cut, and stumbled. The sword fell from her hand, and she went to her knees beside Logan's still body.

Gilbert strode past her, glaring hotly, his sword hilt in both hands, prepared to plunge into Logan's body. With the last bit of strength Jubilee had, she flung herself the last few inches over to the sword she had dropped, brought it swinging around, and plunged it into Gilbert's body high in his chest. Gilbert gasped, a peculiar chest-rattling noise coming from his open mouth, and dropped his sword. Jubilee barely heard it fall, didn't even see it land. Completely exhausted, she bowed her head over Logan's still body, sobbing in anguish, and let darkness claim her.


	39. Hughes

Chapter 39: Hughes

Logan woke slowly.

He lay still, feeling his body throb and wondering what had happened. The last thing he could remember…he'd been on the dueling field with Gilbert, and he'd drawn first blood. He'd won. Then…what had happened afterward?

He opened his eyes. For a moment all he could see was ceiling. Then he turned his head and looked over at the side of his bed, and he saw he was in the Healers' wing. In the next bed lay a still, familiar figure with dark hair and pale skin. Alarmed at the pallor of her face, he tried to get up…and found himself prevented from rising by a hand on his other arm. He turned irritably to the person sitting on the chair beside his bed, and saw Vincet. "Hey," he said, his voice raspy.

"Stay down. The Healer doesn't want you to start bleeding again." Vincet looked tired.

"What happened?" Logan gave up trying to fight his friend and lay back, looking from Vincet's face to Jubilee's still form. "What'sgoin' on?"

"Gilbert went nuts. He jumped on you after you turned around and started walking away. Stabbed you in the back. He was about to finish you off when Jubilee jumped in there and picked up your sword. She fought him off you, refused to let him finish you off, and saved your life. Again." Vincetsounded bitter. "And while she fought him she used some tricks we'd come toexpect from 'Lee', not Jubilee. She blew it. Everyone knows who she is, now."

Logan sucked in a breath. "Is the King upset?"

Vincet sighed. "'Upset' isn't the word for it. He's been closeted with some of his closest councilors since yesterday afternoon—"

"Wait." Logan held up a hand. "Yesterday afternoon?"

Vincet nodded. "The duel was yesterday morning. You've been out since yesterday. So has she. Lucky for both of you."

"Why?" Logan asked warily, eyes narrowed.

Vincet looked at the floor, refusing to meet Logan's eyes. "Talk is that the King will strip you of your knighthood for lying to theKing," he said, "and Jubilee faces either death or exile, for lying and for murdering Gilbert."

"She killed him?" Logan asked in disbelief.

"Yes, she did." Vincet said shortly.

"But he's dead. The traitor's dead. She should be getting some kind of medal or somethin'!" Logan was indignant.

"But the only evidence anyone had of his treachery was what she said she heard in the torture chamber. The palace guard searched hisroom; there was nothing there to indicate that he had been in collusion with Gallas.It's her word against his…and he's dead. And he's the King's cousin. Itdoesn't look good for her, Logan."

"Exile," Logan whispered, his heart contracting. "But where'll she go? A lone girl out there, no family…and with Gallas's Lords scramblin' for power…they'd be only too happy ta capture the girl who caused Gallas's downfall."

"It gets worse," Vincet said miserably. "Gilbert's father, the King's uncle, wants to have her branded a murderer before they take her to the border and exile her."

"No," Logan shook his head, feeling sick. "She'll never survive that, she's barely healed from her ordeal in Gallas's dungeons. They can't do that ta her, Vincet, they can't!" He thought wildly. "The night before,the night o' the ball. There was someone else in the courtyard with Jubileeand Gilbert. A tall man, dark-skinned, wearing Gilbert's colours. Probably a manservant or something; Jubilee insisted there was someone else there,an' that the person was the same one who had killed her parents. If we can find him, he can prove that Gilbert was colluding with Gallas!"

Vincet frowned. "A dark-skinned man, tall, wearing Gilbert's colours…that sounds like Hughes!" "Who?"

Vincet looked excited. "Remember before you left, you told me to keep an eye on the new manservant Gallas had? I found out his name wasHughes. He's from beyond the border somewhere, from the mountains. I was going to go through his room, find out where he exactly came from, but I never got the opportunity. And then you came back, and I got…sidetracked…"

Logan struggled to his feet. "We have ta find evidence. Before they brand Jubilee an' banish her. Come on, Vincet, help me!" He stood, with Vincet's help, and he swayed for a few moments, unsteadily, before finding his balance. A fiery ache throbbed in his lower back, over the sword wound, but he ignored it and took a few experimental steps. By the time they got to his room door, he was able to walk on his own.

At this hour of morning, most of the rooms in the upper floor were empty, their occupants going about their daily business. Logan and Vincet went up the stairs to the nobles' rooms, trying not to look as though they were doing anything wrong, and entered Hughes' room cautiously. The room was neat, almost Spartan. There was no sense of hominess, no feeling that anyone lived there. It was clean, and yet forsome reason the room felt dirty. Logan couldn't put his finger on it, but he just felt that the man was…wrong.

Vincet sighed. "I don't think we're going to find anything here, Logan," he said grimly. "He's so neat…any incriminating papers wereprobably burned yesterday afternoon when Gilbert died. Or he's discarded them somehow." Logan ignored his friend, and went to the bed. Most people kept personal things under their bed; his own box of mementos was under his.He went to his knees, grunting with the strain that put on his sore, pained lower back, and looked under the bed. The only thing under it was a long iron box. Logan reached for it, ignoring the pain in his back, and pulled it out. There was a lockon it, but it was only a matter of a few moments to snap the hasp and open it.Inside the box was a sword, carefully laid on a bed of black and gold silk. Logan stared at it. It had a mark near the hilt of the sword, identifying it as the work of the King's Swordmaker. And the design of the hilt… He had seen it too often not to recognize it. Jubilee had its twin in her room, under her bed. He had watched her stare at the deviceon the hilt too often not to have the image etched in his brain. It was Duke Gilbert's personal device…and it was in Hughes's room. Vincet joined Logan, staring at the sword in the box, and drew in a deep breath. "That's Duke Gilbert's sword. What is it doing inhere?"

"Hughes is the man who killed Jubilee's parents," Logan said, closing the box grimly. "She's got the twin of this sword in her room,in a swordbox under her bed. It's the one way to positively identify their murderer." He pushed the box into the middle of the floor, and turned to the tablein the corner of the room. There was an iron box on top of the desk, also locked. Again, Logan applied the blade of his belt knife to the hasp, and snapped thelock easily. Vincet joined him at the table as he lifted out the tightly-packed sheets inside the box, untied the string holding them together, and started to read through them. And the papers were horrifying. Some of them were letters; letters from the duke to King Gallas, scribbled notes from Julian toGilbert, and here also was the signed agreement between Gilbert and Hughes. Hughes was one of the barbarians from the north, whose clan had taken refuge fromthe unusually long, bitter winter two years ago by living in the hillside caves just above Gilbert's castle. When the snows of winter gave way to the flowersof spring, more than half of the clan's women had died. They needed more women to stay a viable clan, so they had started raiding Gilbert's lands for girls.

Gilbert had heard of them, but instead of driving them off, he had made a bargain with Hughes. Hughes and his clan would be allowed to raid onGilbert's lands…but only where Gilbert allowed them, and at Gilbert's direction. Vincet drew a deep, horrified breath. "He said they could conduct their raiding on his own people? That's monstrous!" He threw apaper down in front of Logan. "This is what we need. Look at this." Logan picked it up. It was a letter written from Gallas to Gilbert; offering Duke Gilbert the throne if the man would help Gallasgain a foothold in the kingdom and overthrow Richard. Once they had both gained the thrones of their respective kingdoms, the borders would be negotiated to give Gallas the greater part of land, but Gilbert would have the power and might of Richard's kingdom. And, most importantly, he would have the Queen.

"Fool," Logan said grimly, shaking his head. "You'd think he'd'a realized that Gallas's so hungry fer power he'd never share withanybody. The gullible fool."

Vincet smiled thinly. "If he were smart he would never have tried it in the first place," he said. "IS there anything else?" Logan flipped through the papers. "They're all incriminatin'," he said finally, putting the papers back in the box. "Now come on. Let'stake this to the King." He picked up the box, and Vincet opened the door forhim, letting both of them out.

They forgot to push the swordbox back under the bed.

Richard sat at the head of the long table, his face dark with anger. "She was Lee all along," he said angrily. "Or he was Jubilee allalong. I don't know which is accurate." He got up and paced the length of thetable. "What are we going to do about it?"

"Nothing," Renee said coolly from the other end of the table. The Council, sitting along each side of the table, turned to look at her. "My Lord, there is no law in the kingdom that says a girl who masquerades as a boy is wrong. There is also no specific law that states all squires have to be boys, or that all knights have to be men. She did nothing wrong by being who she is, Richard."

The King actually looked taken aback by this revelation, and floundered for a moment before regaining his composure. "Well, putting that aside for a moment…the girl killed my cousin! We are royally offended!"

Renee sighed and folded her hands in her lap. "Again, my Lord, there is no law that specifically states putting a traitor to death is wrong."

Richard shook his head. "We have received no proof that Our cousin was a traitor!" He turned to the Weaponsmaster. "When you had hisrooms searched did you find anything that would indicate he had any type ofcontact with Gallas?"

The man hesitated. "Your Majesty, because we didn't find anything doesn't mean that he isn't a traitor," he said finally. "Hecould easily have hidden whatever evidence he had—letters, financial reports, money—destroyed or hidden when Sir Logan started asking questions."

Richard stopped pacing and turned to face the Weaponsmaster. "All right. Out with it. Do you think my cousin was a traitor?" The Weaponsmaster sounded reluctant. "Your Majesty—Richard—I don't know what to think. The girl went through a lot in the dungeons;in her dazed, anguished state she could very easily have misheard, or misinterpreted, anything Gallas and Julian might have said. But I also can't think of a reason why they would have mentioned Gilbert's name in her presence unless they were all in collusion. I honestly don't know what to think, Your Majesty."

Richard looked at Renee. "What about you, Renee?"

Renee looked levelly at Richard. "She is not the kind to mishear things, Richard. If she were not absolutely sure that that is what she heard, she would never have said anything. She had the training we give our squires; she knows what honour is, and what it requires. She knew that if shesaid something, and it was proved false, she would pay the penalty. I trust her implicitly, Richard. If she said she heard Gallas say Gilbert was a traitor, then Gilbert was in collusion with the enemy. And it fits, too. We have known since last summer that someone close to us was sending information tothe enemy. I didn't expect it would be Gilbert…but I'm not surprised either."

"But you've never liked Gilbert either," said a new voice, acidly. They all looked at the speaker; it was Henry, Gilbert's half-brother. "You would be the first one to accuse him, the first one to believe anything bad about my brother, because you don't like him. I say he was innocent; he's my brother, after all."

"Yes, he's your brother," Renee replied with equanimity, "Which means you can't be objective about his guilt or innocence either." They were interrupted by the sound of voices in the hall. A low, tense argument went on, finally ending in a raised voice. There was thesound of a scuffle, and then the door to the conference room was flung open. Logan and Vincet stood in the opening, and behind him stood a rather crestfallen member of the palace guard.

"My apologies, YourMajesty," the man said, bowing to the King. "I know you said this was a private council meeting, and I tried to explain it to Sir Vincet and Sir Logan, but they insisted…rather forcefully…on seeing you at right this instant."

Logan strode into the room and deposited the strongbox on the table in front of the King. "It's all here, yer Majesty!" he said triumphantly. "All the letters, all the papers an' documents Gilbert had, they're all here. He gave 'em ta his manservant, Hughes, ta keep, an' the man put it in hisown room, where Vincet and I found it!" The two knights stood in front of the king for a long time, as Richard leafed through the documents in the box. His face remained impassive until he'd finished with the last scrap of paper, and then hardened.

He motioned to the guard. "Bring Gilbert's man Hughes here," he said. "We will deal with him now." The guard saluted, then turned and left. Richard focused his hard gaze on the two knights in front of him. "And why did you search another man's things without his permission?" he said coolly. "Regardless of the outcome, you both have behaved dishonourably in the commission of this act."

Logan spluttered for a moment. "Yer Majesty, look what we found!" The Weaponsmaster stood from his place at the table. "Your Majesty, I ordered them to search the rooms belonging to all of Gilbert's men. I believed that if Gilbert could have been a traitor, perhaps his menmight be as well. They were following my orders." Logan cast the man a look of startlement, but the Weaponsmaster ignored the look. He didn't approve of lying…butin this case, it was necessary.

The guard came back in, looking puzzled. "We can't find Hughes anywhere," he said in puzzlement. "His room's empty, and the box hekeeps his sword in was empty too."

"Continue looking," Richard said crisply, angrily. "Search the castle. Close all the exits, check everyone coming in or going out. He must not be allowed to leave the castle!" he turned to Logan, frowning. "Sir Logan, you should be in bed. I command you to return to the Healer's rooms at once." Logan sighed in relief and allowed his shoulders to drop. He really was aching, and his lower back was throbbing. He bowed stiffly tothe King, then turned and left the room. Vincet threw his arm across Logan's back and supported him as they went down the stairs. They made their way slowly back to the roomin which he'd woken up…and were only part of the way there when they saw the knot of healers and servants and pages. A page went running past them, back down the hall from which they'd come, and their interest grew.

As soon as they reached the room Logan had woken up in, they heard the sound of steel clashing against steel. Logan rushed forward…and stopped short in the doorway, clinging to the frame for support. Hughes was in the room, brandishing a sword over a huddled figure in the corner, who had just been disarmed. "Jubilee!" Logan criedas he saw her tense, set face. "Hughes!" His hand flew to his waist, but his sword wasn't there. Hughes stopped pressing his attack, and saw Logan. Ignoring the girl in the corner, not even pausing to kick her sword aside, he strode to Logan.

"You went through my room," he snapped. "It was a sneaky,cowardly, dishonourable thing to do. You took those papers…and you left the swordbox sitting in the middle of the room. I saw it and I knew I'd been found."He turned to Jubilee, lying in a gasping, crying heap in the corner. "If it wasn't for her, the Duke's plans would have gone through. He would have the throne by now, and my clan would have rich, fertile lands to settle into, cities to loot and pillage, women for the having. She's ruined everything. When I killed her parents I should have killed her too." He smiled at Logan's startledlook. "Oh, yes, I remember the little acrobat girl from the traveling fair." He laughed unpleasantly. "After I've finished you off, I'll take care of her. The guard won't get here in time; I'll be gone before they can be summoned." He raised his sword. Logan closed his eyes. There was nothing he could do; he didn'thave a sword, and the guard wouldn't get there fast enough. And Vincet didn't have his sword either.

A sudden stain of crimson blossomed over Hughes's chest. At the center of that stain was the bloody point of a sword. Hughes turned around, shock and disbelief warring with each other in his eyes. Jubilee was behind him, clinging to the hilt of thesword with all her strength, her grip on it being the only thing keeping herupright. "You…killed my…parents," she gasped, her breath catching in her throat. "You're…not killing…the man I love!" As she said that, Hughes' legs collapsed, and he fell facedown, heavily, to the floor. The impact dislodged the sword from his back, and it clattered to the floor. The light went out of the man's eyes, and he died.

Logan heard footsteps, and turned to see Richard, Renee, and the other council members, as well as a few other knights, appearing in the doorway, looking aghast. He ignored all of them, stumbling to his knees beside the girl who knelt next to the body. Jubilee raised her head, her face flushed. "He came down here," she croaked weakly. "He woke me up. He had the sword from my room; the sword he'd used to kill my parents with. He said…he said he'd finish thejob with the same sword he'd killed my parents with." She was shaking now. "I grabbed his hand, and somehow I got the sword away from him. He reached for his own sword, hanging around his waist…and we fought. He managed to disarm me, and then you showed up. You kept him from killing me. You saved my life.Thank you." She swallowed convulsively as she looked at the dead body. "And…and I think I'm going to be sick." Logan grabbed a nearby chamber pot and held it as she retched. When she finished she burst into tears, and clutched him forcomfort. He sat there next to her, stroking her dark hair and whispering soothingwords to her.


	40. Lord And Lady

Chapter 40: Lord and Lady

"Come forth."

Jubilee bit her lip in apprehension as she heard the King's voice call to her from inside the audience Hall. She forced her legs to work, carrying her stiffly from the small antechamber just off the audience hall into the hall itself.

Everyone in the castle, it seemed, was in the hall that day. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she reached up to her throat, gripping the small golden pendant hanging from a thin chain around her neck. Renee had given it to her yesterday when she visited Jubilee in her room in the Healer's wing, along with a gown of brown homespun. "The King has made a decision," the Queen had said, impassively, her face showing no sign that she knew what that decision was."You'll need a dress for the occasion." Jubilee was now dressed in the gown, her heart pounding in her chest, certain that she was about to be put to death.

It had been almost a month since she had killed Hughes in her room. In that time the Queen had relieved her of all her duties, insisting she had to recover completely. Jubilee had stayed in the healer's wing, unable to return to her room, under the King's command. The guards posted at the door to her room had been told not to let anyone but Renee and Logan into her room, and Logan had no more idea of what was going on than she did. And if Renee knew anything, she wasn't talking.

Jubilee faltered in the middle of that floor, feeling everyone's eyes on her. For just a moment all she wanted to do was sink through the floor, or go somewhere—anywhere—other than here.

Measured footsteps crossed the floor, and the line of people closest to her broke apart. Her heart leaped when she saw Logan step out of the line and walk to her side…and then felt a chill rush through her as she realized that he had shed his blue and yellow colors. He wasn't even wearing the red uniform of the King's Knights. Instead, he was dressed in the same brown homespun she was wearing.

"What are you doing?" she gasped, stopping her forward walk and turning to him.

Logan turned to her. "Jubilee, you are my lady," he said gently. "I think I loved ya since I met ya; but I'm not sure. All I know is that, with all the stuff we been through, I've come to realize that I want ya in my life forever. I'm a King's Knight…I've always wanted ta be a King's Knight, fer as long as I can remember…but it don't mean a thing without ya at my side. So whatever ya do, whatever the King decides, wherever ya go…I'm goin' with ya."

"The King's likely going to have me branded and exiled," Jubilee said, with a hint of hysterical laughter in her voice. "Logan, you can't go into exile with me."

"He can't tell me what ta do," Logan said grimly, his chin set in what Jubilee had come to think of as his stubborn face. "An' neither can you. If I wanna go with ya, then that's what I'm gonna do." He crooked his arm, and held it out to her. "Will you accompany me, my lady?"

Jubilee stared at him for a moment, then ignored his arm altogether and flung herself at him, pressing her lips against his. "I love you," she said quietly. "And if you want to come with me, well…" She smiled suddenly. "Not much I can do to change your mind, is there?"

Logan grinned back. "None at all," he said, hugging her tightly. "Now come on. Let's not keep the King waitin', huh?" He took her arm and walked her the rest of the way to the dais.

The King sat on his gilded throne, looking stern and very majestic. Renee sat beside him, her face so carefully composed that Jubilee couldn't read anything as she mounted the dais to the second stepand Logan came to a stop at the foot of it. Suddenly afraid, she sank to her knees and bowed her head. She had to. She wasn't sure her legs would hold her up any longer.

Richard leaned forward and spoke, not to her, but to Logan. "Sir Logan, you are not accused."

Logan swept his sword and swordbelt off his shoulder and laid it at the King's feet. "She has been my faithful squire this past winter, Yer Majesty," he said respectfully. "And she saved my life more than once. I owe her a life-debt I can never repay. If it is yer decision to banish her, then I'll go with her. I love her, Yer Majesty. I couldn't let her go alone."

"So be it." Richard reached down and took the sword. Logan felt a pang as he saw it disappear. There went his dream, everything he'd ever wanted. He bowed his head in sorrow.

A gentle hand touched his shoulder, and he looked at the girl beside him. Jubilee was patting his shoulder gently, tears of sorrow in her eyes. Logan suddenly remembered why he'd done this; for her. Because she was all he'd ever wanted in life, and if having her meant the loss of his sword and his service, then he would make that sacrifice. She was worth it. He straightened up and lifted his head proudly, waiting for Richard to pronounce sentence. He had no doubt now that it was going to be banishment; he'd already decided last night that he would take her with him to his home, back through the northern passes to his village in the foothills. He could hire out as a rich man's house guard, or even just become a farmer. Anything was possible, as long as Jubilee was with him.

Provided she survived the branding.

Richard stood, holding up his hand for silence. "Our Knight has decided to leave Our service to follow his heart," he said to the audience. "We will not gainsay it. Now, for the girl named Jubilee; answer Our question. Did you kill Our cousin Gilbert, Duke of Harwell?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," Jubilee said, bowing her head.

"Did you kill Gilbert's manservant, Hughes of Southclare?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," Jubilee said. Twice a murderer. Would they brand her twice?

"And in doing so, did you save Our kingdom?"

Her head flew up, and her mouth fell open. Richard was looking down at her, smiling broadly now. She looked quickly past him to Renee, and saw the Queen openly smiling. "Y-your Majesty?"

Richard held out his hand to her. "You have shown incredible courage and fortitude in defense of Our Kingdom, at great cost to yourself," he said, his face and voice softening. "It would be less than honourable of me to repay you with exile. So here is what I decree." He raised his voice. "It is Our decision that, as Our cousin Gilbert was declared a traitor, his lands and properties, as well as his title, are forfeit. And since the Lady Jubilee bested him in combat, control of his lands and his title should rightly go to her. However, since she is clearly unsuitable to assume the title of 'Duke' the title will be transferred to her consort Logan, and she will retain the title of Duchess, a peer of the realm. They are hereby declared titular holders of the lands and tenants belonging to the Harwell dukedom."

The audience went wild with cheering and screaming, the applause echoing from the high ceiling overhead. Logan rose from his knees and joined Jubilee on the second step of the dais, as Renee threw a cloak over Jubilee's shoulders. It was a rich sapphire blue, with gold and yellow trim; Logan's colours. Richard was throwing a similar cloak over Logan's shoulders, and then both the King and the Queen turned the newly-made Duke and his Lady around to face the crowd.

Logan stared out at the sea of people, all clapping and cheering. The sound was dizzying, and he turned his attention to something not so complicated. Jubilee was looking dazed as she stared at the crowd. He figured he should do something to snap her out of that daze, so…

Well, he'd never get a better chance. After all, she couldn't be his Lady if they weren't married, right? He went down on one knee, taking her hand in his. The crowd immediately quieted when they saw what he was doing.

"Lady Jubilee," he said, looking up at her radiant face, still thin but with a flush of color; "Will you marry me?"

Time slowed and seemed to stop. For a long moment, an eternity to him, the question hung in the air, and he thought she wasn't going to answer. Then she licked her lips nervously, and spoke. "Yes," she said softly, disbelievingly. "Yes. If you'll have me…yes, I'll marry you!"

Logan swept her up in his arms to the accompaniment of more cheering.

THE END

That's it! It's done! Finally!

I feel a huge sense of pride when I look at the disk that this book is saved on. I've never written a body of work so long, and actually completed it. Though this work had fewer chapters than 'Last One Standing', the chapters were longer and more action-packed, so it seems longer. This was written in its entirety last year, so this was posted rather late.

I founda publisher and sent thisout (It's not written as a fanfic novel, of course; Marvel would have my head if I did!) in the form of a fantasy novel and sent it to a publisher. It has already been rejected once, but I'll be sending it to another publisher.I think a lot of you readers would like to see this in print form, so you can, as one reader put it, 'cuddle up with a cup of coffee and read it straight through'. If it ever does make it into print I'll let you all know!

Now, for acknowledgements and credits:

Ellie: you rock! Thanks for sending me reviews of the chaps as I finished them; they helped keep me working on the book. If it weren't for you, I would have stopped writing back at chapter 30.

Megalictis: Thanks for the praise…just don't do it too often, or I'll get a swelled head! Thanks also for being a veritable fountain of Wolverine and Jubilee knowledge.

Thanks go out also to Barry, Kate, Jennifer, DevDev, Sparklagal, and everyone else who helped me out by sending me the chapters I lost when my computer got sick and crashed. You guys are the best! I know you can't like having all my crap cluttering up your computer, so I really, really, really appreciate those of you who did. If this book ever makes it into print, you're all getting mentions in the afterword or foreword or whatever the editor lets me have.

I'msorry for the long pause between chapter 39 and this one. As we all know, Hurricane Katrina devastated the Gulf region at the beginning of the month, and I've been volunteering my time matching the names of the missing with the names of the found. It's an arduous and time-consuming process, but ultimately worth it, if I can reunite even one family.Iurge anyone reading this; if you have anything that can be donated, be it time,money, material items, canned goods, please do so. These people need whatever we can give them.

Thanks to everyone who stuck with me through all that, and I hope to hear from all of you soon! I'm already working on the next novel, which is titled 'Crusader's Honor'. It's about an English Crusader named Logan, a French merchant named (who else?) Remy, and a shy Chinese girl named Jubileestranded in an alien land very far from home.

Look for it!

Amanda


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